Holly, Phoenix, Diamond, and Elm
by alienyouthct
Summary: On a fateful Halloween, Harry Potter's parents fall to Voldemort and Harry becomes the Boy-Who-Lived. The affair attracts unwanted attention and the course of Harry's life is changed for the… stranger?
1. Rebirth

Title: Holly, Phoenix, Diamond, and Elm  
Author: JoeHundredaire  
Rating: R/FR18  
Disclaimer: Captain Fangirlhumper… err, J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe. Stan Lee made the X-Men and mutants and such. Wish they were mine so I could do utterly retarded things to them and watch my bank account get steadily larger, but sadly not mine.  
Summary: On a fateful Halloween, Harry Potter's parents fall to Voldemort and Harry becomes the Boy-Who-Lived. The affair attracts unwanted attention and the course of Harry's life is changed for the… stranger?  
Joe's Note: This originally started with the intention of being yet another rewrite of SilverAegis's infamous, oft-abandoned Harry Potter and the New Life. I wrote seventeen chapters. I paused. I rewrote seventeen chapters. And I still didn't really want to associate my name with it. So I excised all the parts I brought to the fic, stuck 'em in my laptop bag, and wandered off to start something new. And if you're reading this, it means I've written a few chapters of it already. Oh, and just for ease of merger, the Harry Potter side of things is accelerated ten years. Meaning Harry was born on July 31st, 1990 and his parents died on Halloween 1991.

* * *

**_October 31, 1991_**

* * *

"Wait. There. The wrecked house. The source is in there. Stop the car."

Her driver obeyed without question, a useful quality when one wanted to stay in her employ, and Emma Grace Frost opened her door, pulling her white fur coat tighter around her body as she emerged into the chilly October air. She'd been enjoying a glass of the scotch she'd acquired during the Highlands portion of her British voyage while the car rolled down the A399, heading back towards civilization after visiting the family of another prospective student for her school. Then a chilling, wordless psychic scream had torn through the night and a paler than usual Emma had ordered the car to divert down the B3358 as she searched for the cause.

And now here she was.

Godric's Hollow. An interesting name for a town. Strangely enough, it hadn't appeared on any of the signs on the highway that advertised other approaching settlements. As she barked terse directions at her driver, a side street had called out to her and they'd turned right onto it. A red sign with gold letters proclaiming 'Welcome to Godric's Hollow' had greeted them, followed by a peculiar mix of extreme old and modern cookie cutter houses.

Staring at the still smoking house in front of her, Emma decided that further analysis of the town's architecture could wait. She could already feel the inquisitive minds of the townspeople beginning to make their way towards the house and if there was a mutant child inside, she wanted to investigate and be gone before they got there. Especially if they were the cause of… whatever had happened here. She of all people knew what could happen when adults reacted poorly to a child with special abilities…

Entering the house, Emma had frowned at the sheer destruction before her. A single powered individual run amok was looking less and less likely; a battle had clearly been fought here. As she wandered further into the house, she was given a reminder as to why she ought not to rely entirely on her telepathic powers as she stumbled over the corpse of a man with wild black hair and wide hazel eyes. Scowling as she rolled her ankle to shake off the discomfort, Emma looked around the living room and, failing to find any other people - alive or otherwise - headed for the stairs.

There was someone alive up here and rather than waste her limited time exploring the other rooms, Emma let her powers guide her directly to the proper place. This room was just as bad as the living room and home to another casualty: a green-eyed redhead she presumed to be the wife of the man downstairs. And lying in a crib, silent aloud but mind a whirl of noise, was an infant she presumed was their child.

Emma had never seen anything like it. Inside the mind of the boy, a dark entity resided, clawing at the child's soul as it tried to establish a foothold. But incredibly enough, this infant had the mental fortitude to fight the possession, lashing out at the being with a power Emma had never seen or felt before. On one side of the astral battlefield was an amorphous black blob, held at bay by a glowing white stag that continually charged the blob, driving it back with its antlers. With the boy distracted by his battle, Emma easily entered his immature mind and accessed his short-term memory…

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

_"Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now!"_

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead! Not Harry! Please, have mercy… have mercy…"_

_A shrill voice laughing…_

_A burst of green light…_

…so someone had come here, killed the boy's parents with his powers - some kind of energy projection ability that fired green blasts - and then attempted to kill off this child only to be disintegrated when the boy's own power lashed out and saved him. Fascinating. Pulling out of his memories, Emma returned to where the entity and the boy were doing battle, noting that he was slowly losing ground and the entity was beginning to take hold.

There would be none of that. This child was coming with her, she'd decided, and she couldn't afford to bring back any mental hitchhiker that could potentially infect her weaker students. Idly, she wondered what this thing was and where it'd come from… but then she realized it didn't matter. It was an infection that had to go and if 'Harry' couldn't do it alone, then she'd have to help him.

Maneuvering around the astral landscape so she could approach the being from behind, Emma raised her hands and extended tendrils of white psionic power. Wrapping them around the being, she pulled it back away from Harry before transforming them into coils of razor sharp barbed wire. A quick flick of her wrists saw the blackness torn into a hundred pieces, a haunting scream echoing through the mindscape before silence descended. The stag eyed her for a moment before lowering his head and disappearing, Emma pulling herself free of the empty whiteness a moment later.

"Hey! Who are you! What are you doing with Harry?" Emma's head snapped up, whirling around as she cursed herself for becoming so involved with the boy's mind that she lost touch with the outside world. A wild-eyed man with black hair was standing in the doorway, pointing a… stick at her? How very odd. "I don't know who you are, lady, but you've got five seconds to back away from my godson before…"

The man never managed to complete his threat. Reaching out with her mind, Emma slammed herself into his consciousness with the subtlety of a tank and knocked him out, sending him crumpling to the floor. Turning back to Harry, Emma scooped the infant up into her arms. Before she could even take a step towards the door, her mind alerted her to new people appearing all over the property. In a peculiar bit of serendipity, whoever was teleporting these people in completely avoided the road, giving her a clear path by which to retreat.

While it was far from her preferred exit strategy…

* * *

_'Incoming.'_

The one word mental message was the only warning Tempest McClain received before a section of the house's second floor exploded outward. A glittering figure sailed through the air, hitting the ground with a thunderous crash that drove her to one knee before rising and sprinting for the car. Tempest turned the key, the car roaring to life as her boss wrenched the left rear door open, diving inside and yanking the door shut. "Drive."

Having experienced weirder while in the employ of Emma, Tempest didn't even blink before putting the car into gear and roaring off down the road. "Were you successful in finding what you came for, m'lady?"

"I found something." Tempest shot glances at her boss through the rear view mirror, watching as the again flesh and blood Emma awkwardly wiggled out of her coat and wrapped a now fussing baby in it. "If this is what I've been looking for? That remains to be seen."

* * *

**_November 3, 1991_**

* * *

"He's not a psi talent."

Looking up from the reports her administrative assistant at Frost International had sent her to read over, Emma's brow furrowed. "That's impossible. I told you what I saw."

Nathaniel Essex shrugged, thrusting a bundle of papers at her. Emma flipped through them quickly before dismissing them when she recognized that she wasn't anywhere near educated enough in genetics to make heads or tails of what was there. "He's not a psi talent. He's not a mutant. He doesn't even carry a latent X-gene that could be artificially activated. He's a completely normal flatscan as best I can tell."

Glancing over at the white and gold pram containing what she'd thought would someday be her greatest student, Emma let out a sigh of disgust. Well, at least she'd only blown four days and a bit over ten thousand dollars on the boy. "So now what, Essex? Apart from you telling me 'I told you so' and charging me for the comprehensive tests you said were a waste of time when the simple test came up negative?"

"I told you so." Emma narrowed her eyes and Nathaniel offered her a smile full of sharp teeth before holding up a second folder. "Moving on… I have a proposal for you. I have a rather questionable experiment I wish to run. You have a child you are disappointed with and favorable genetic material. Why don't we make a deal?" One blonde brow arched and Emma gestured for him to continue. "I now have the ability to analyze a person's genes and determine which material came from which parent. Erik has been after me to begin treating followers of his who have inherited undesirable traits from their parents… mental illness, chiefly, but there are a host of other conditions that I could potentially cure by way of…"

Not particularly in the mood to listen to the questionably sane scientist pat himself on the back all morning, Emma rolled her eyes and gestured for him to get on with it. "While Harry and I are young, Essex?"

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed at her before he took a slow breath, face smoothing out once more. "Very well. I wish to sample your DNA, combine it with the DNA of Harry's mother - given the trends mutant DNA exhibits when being combined, I'd rather use hers than the lad's father's to prevent your powers from being accidentally suppressed - and then grow a body from that combination to see what happens. If the result is acceptable, I will transfer Harry's consciousness into it and digitally insert records into relevant databases so that your new blood kin exists legally as well. If whatever power you claim he possesses came from his parents, he will likely still have it, combined with your own formidable abilities."

That was an idea with potential, she had to admit. It would buy her time to investigate his abilities further, while wrapping him in a package that would be acceptable to Charles and Erik so his presence in the Savage Land would go uncontested. "Very well. That sounds… acceptable… to me. I have only one question for you." While her interactions with Essex had been limited to official business for Charles and Erik before this, she knew how the man operated based on what the two men had told her. "What do you want from me in return? Other than temporary use of my DNA and Harry?"

Rather than look insulted, Nathaniel only offered one of his shark like grins at her question. "Jean Grey. Or her DNA, at any rate."

Emma rolled her eyes. Everyone wanted that little brat these days. Charles had taken a personal interest in her, removing the redhead from Emma's general telepathy classes for personal instruction. Erik was even 'lowering' himself to work with her, using his own trials and tribulations with mastering magnokinesis as a base for instructing her in the use of her telekinesis. And now Nathaniel too wanted a piece of her. Well fine. If it got her what she wanted, she'd chop the damn brat's hand off and deliver it in a box. "Agreed. Payment on delivery of the newest Frost."

"Before I begin."

"A quarter of a million now to cover your material expenses and time and Grey's DNA when I take delivery." Nathaniel opened his mouth but Emma cut him off with the wave of a hand. "I won't be returning to the Savage Land for a few more days. If you start now, by the time I've flown down, checked in, and returned for my 'follow up visit' with a student I'll claim to have had a favorable meeting with, you'll be done and I'll have what you want. Agreed?"

Inclining his head, Nathaniel spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Very well. Now, if you'll follow me, I'll take my samples and then you can say goodbye to Harry…"

* * *

**_November 22, 1991_**

* * *

Watching the man colloquially known as 'Mister Sinister' push a pram across his laboratory towards her was a strange and strangely amusing sight that Emma would treasure for some time to come. Then he reached her and it took Emma only a fraction of a second to realize that she had been double-crossed. Shooting to her feet, Emma's hands curled into fists as she glared at Nathaniel. "What the hell is this?"

"I take it you're not talking about the blonde hair." Emma narrowed her eyes and Nathaniel held his hands up pacifistically. "I'm sorry for not warning you about this particular side effect of the process. I honestly didn't realize until after you left that you might not realize for yourself that it was an inevitable change. But, ignoring the physical changes, your child is perfectly healthy and possesses an X-gene completely identical to your own in every way." Reaching down, Nathaniel ran his fingers through the child's blonde hair, eliciting a noise of distress as the infant squirmed away from his touch. "Perhaps you might want to call her Harriette from now on?"

Emma cooed softly as she lifted the unhappy girl from the pram, bringing her new daughter up to rest against her chest in an attempt to calm her. As she bounced Harry - who would most definitely need a new name now - up and down gently, Emma closed her eyes. Nobody save Tempest even knew of Harry's existence, so there'd be no change to explain away; everyone in the Savage Land would be meeting Harry for the first time in this form. And, at least assuming he was telling the truth, Nathaniel had come through on his end of the bargain. He'd just… changed a bit more of Harry than Emma had anticipated. Opening her eyes, she sighed. "I take it you've held off on the records because of this?" Nathaniel nodded and Emma stared down at the girl that had once been Harry, watching as she looked around with wide green eyes, the sight of Nathaniel causing her to turn and burrow in against Emma's chest. "Very well. Call her Hazel. Hazel Zoe Frost. It's about time someone did something to make people remember that name."

"I could recommend a fellow doctor if you want to discuss those mother issues of yours, Emma darling."

"Shut up, Essex." Shifting to hold Hazel with one arm, Emma brushed the soft blonde hair back and frowned at the scar that still stared up at her from the child's forehead. "Did you disfigure my daughter's forehead? Because correct me if I'm wrong, but imperfections like this should have been left behind when you grew the new body."

Nodding, Nathaniel attempted to approach the pair, only to stumble backwards when Hazel grunted and shook one tiny fist at him. Two pairs of wide eyes stared at the infant and in her head, Emma crowed in victory. Telekinesis was not a power she possessed herself and therefore wasn't a power Hazel would have received from her X-gene. Whatever Hazel had just done, it hadn't come from the Frost half of her family tree. She wasn't crazy after all. There was something special about this child. "Fascinating. I think I'll be spending more time analyzing young Har… Hazel's genes after you leave. As for the scar, it wasn't there until I performed the consciousness transfer. Then she began wailing like she was being tortured and as I watched, the scar slowly etched itself into her forehead. I could do nothing to stop it. The cosmetics I sent my assistant out to purchase dissolve when applied and while I'm no Hollywood plastic surgeon, I know enough about cosmetic surgery to repair a simple scar. It would hold for mere hours before the process repeated itself and the scar reappeared on her forehead… just as painfully, might I add."

Emma scowled; she'd been pondering using the former as a temporary fix if she'd returned to find that Nathaniel's experiments had failed with the latter as a long-term solution. She eyed Hazel before sighing. What to do, what to do? Hmmph. By all accounts, wearing white after Labor Day was a major fashion faux pas, as was wearing nothing but one color, but neither of those 'rules' slowed her down. Hazel would just have to wear bangs. And if they weren't popular by the time Hazel had to start making public appearances at her side? She would be another trend breaker, just like her mother.

Coughing to get her attention, Nathaniel's red eyes flicked down to Emma's hips, staring pointedly at the sizable bulge running along her left hip. Sighing, she withdrew a pair of glass tubes from the pocket of her white leather pants with her free hand and placed them on the counter. "Hair and blood. I wasn't sure which would be more useful."

"Blood. Thank you for your consideration. Please keep me in mind for all your future questionable scientific needs." Smiling cheekily, Nathaniel pocketed the two vials and gestured to Hazel's pram. "You can show yourself out, I imagine?" Emma didn't even bother to dignify that with a response, gently depositing Hazel in her pram and offering Nathaniel a parting glare for his cheek before stomping off towards the front of the warehouse he was currently holed up in.

Waiting for her beside the white Bentley Mulsanne parked at the curb, Tempest closed the newspaper she was reading and tucked it under one arm as Emma approached. Her eyes roamed over Emma for a second before she raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Is everything okay, m'lady?"

Emma nodded as she brought the pram to a stop, reaching in and bringing Hazel to rest against her chest again as Tempest broke the pram down and stored it in the trunk. As the younger blonde came back around to open the right rear door for Emma, she turned to let Hazel see Tempest. "Tempest, meet Hazel Zoe Frost. Hazel, meet your new Aunt Tempest. She's going to look after you when I'm busy."

"Hello, Hazel. It's nice to mee…" Tempest leaned in, reaching in with a finger to poke at the infant's stomach, only to go stumbling back just as Nathaniel had. Worse, in her case; Tempest had the misfortune of tripping over a crack in the sidewalk and falling onto her ass. "What the fu…"

Clearing her throat, Emma narrowed her eyes at her personal assistant. "Ahem. There are young ears present, Tempest."

Tempest blushed as she clambered back to her feet. "Yes, m'lady. But… what just happened? I thought she was a flatscan who was going to get your powers? Did Master Essex do something to give her extra powers? Is she a telepath and a telekine like Miss Grey?"

"In a fashion. She's got my telepathy and transmorph powers, at least according to Sinister, but… well, you're the second person she's shoved away today. Evidently, the power that I saw on Halloween and Sinister claims doesn't exist… exists." Emma eyed her new daughter; they'd have to do something about the girl's antisocial tendencies and quick. As cute as it was when it was happening to a man Emma disliked or her young assistant, Emma knew Erik wouldn't find it anywhere near as amusing to be pushed around by a baby and neither would some of his Savage Land followers. "You're not going to ask the obvious?"

Looking from Emma to Hazel and back, Tempest offered a faint shrug. "You told me that the new body was going to be a combination of Harry's mother and you, right?" Emma nodded. "One woman plus one woman equals one woman. Where would the boy bits come from?" An extremely simplistic version of what Emma had come to realize must have happened, but accurate enough. "Besides, think of it this way, m'lady: you'll be much better equipped to raise a daughter than a son. After all, you've already lived through everything she'll go through."

Emma nodded. Tempest had a point. One that hadn't even occurred to her, strangely enough. Then again, she hadn't exactly had the time to indulge in deep thoughts about the situation. "Door." Tempest jumped to open the door for Emma and the blonde slid into the car, placing Hazel in the - unsurprisingly - white car seat before buckling herself in. Tempest took her seat behind the wheel and as the engine growled to life, Emma opened a small white cooler resting in the middle of the back seat, extracting a bottle of scotch and a glass with three ice cubes conveniently resting in the bottom. "Onward to Heathrow, Tempest. The sooner we get back to the Savage Land, the better. I positively cannot wait to let my hair down and…" She trailed off as she looked up to find the woman staring at her oddly in the rear view mirror. "What?"

"While it's not really my place to say anything, m'lady, should you really be drinking while…"

"I'm not pregnant, Tempest, I'm the mother of an adopted baby that became a test tube baby that was then growth accelerated. I can drink if I damn well please." Raising her glass, Emma took a large pull of the fiery liquid to demonstrate. "That's why I pay you: so I can drink and still get places. Now kindly remember why I employ you and return your eyes to the road."

"Yes, m'lady."

* * *

**_September 1, 2001_**

* * *

Yawning, Hazel Frost blinked as she stared up at the ceiling. A starscape? The ceiling of her bedroom didn't have a… oh, wait. Shaking off the fuzziness of sleep, she sat up and looked around at the lavish hotel room. Right, she wasn't at home anymore. Her family had come to London a week ago, taking up residence in a suite of rooms so she could explore the city a bit and acquire her school supplies before heading off to this mysterious 'Hogwarts' place.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While Hazel had always known she was slightly different from the rest of the mutants inhabiting the Savage Land, managing to do all sorts of odd little things that weren't the least bit related to her mutant powers, she hadn't seen that one coming. She was a witch. Supposedly. A real witch, and boy had that pissed Wanda Lehnsherr off to no end when she'd heard.

Sliding out of bed, Hazel grabbed the white silk dressing gown she'd thought to lay over the back of the nearby desk's chair the night before and padded down to the end of the bed. Kneeling down in front of the oversized wood and metal trunk - and Lordy had she gotten odd looks from the bellhop for that one - she removed the necklace she was wearing and grabbed the key hanging from it, sticking it into a lock with a snowflake painted beneath it and turning it to the left. The lock clicked and the trunk opened, displaying a wide variety of clothing both magical and muggle, all white.

What else would one expect from the eldest daughter of Emma Grace Frost, White Queen of the Savage Land and the Hellfire Club?

Not sure exactly what the customs of the school were in regards to uniforms on the first day, Hazel decided to wear one of hers rather than casual clothes just to be safe. With her luck, if she wore something else they'd be required to change into their uniforms in mid-journey and she had no desire to try her luck at dressing and undressing aboard a rocking train. Digging through the trunk, she began placing articles of clothing on the end of the bed: a white button-front blouse, a white vest featuring a badge with the crest of Hogwarts - which featured some sort of curious magic that would transform it to match her house once she was 'sorted' at school, according to the seamstress at Madam Malkin's - and a black tie that would likewise transform to match the coloring of her house, a pair of white slacks, and white socks. A pair of white leather loafers were left sitting beside her trunk as she grabbed a white bra and panties from the far right side of the trunk and headed for the bathroom.

Stripping down and stepping into the shower, Hazel turned up the water as hot as she could stand it, closing her eyes and letting it wash over her upturned face as she thought about what was to come. Harry Potter was a name nobody had used for her since… well, she'd become a her. Now she was returning to the land of her birth, the land of her birth parents, and to a past she had long ago abandoned.

And the best part was, they had no idea 'she' was coming. Even though their method of delivery - and who was the genius who'd thought up sending mail by slow-flying, pellet regurgitating birds? - could figure out that Harry Potter and Hazel Frost were one and the same enough for her to receive letters from the school, someone had evidently failed to inform the staff there about her transformation. All her letters had come addressed to 'Harry Potter' and she'd declined to correct them. They'd find out soon enough… when she arrived at Hogwarts. A bit mean to be sure, but it was their fault for not doing their jobs right, she reasoned.

Pulling back out of the spray, Hazel blinked the water out of her eyes before reaching for one of the bottles of shampoo she'd brought from home. Not that the hotel wasn't well stocked with all manner of products in miniature bottles, but she really did prefer the lavender scented shampoo, conditioner, and body wash she had made for her in the Savage Land. A nice floral scent without being overpowering, and the organic products were far better for her hair and skin than the harsh chemicals flatscans preferred. Squirting a dollop of the purple shampoo into her hand, Hazel began working it through her thick blonde curls as she pondered what her future held.

While her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ remained unopened and unread at the bottom of the second compartment of her trunk, she'd heard enough by eavesdropping during her visits to Diagon Alley to have a vague idea of how the student body at Hogwarts operated. At the beginning of each year, the incoming students were sorted by means unknown into one of four houses, named after the founders of the school and reflecting different traits: Gryffindor for the brave, Hufflepuff for the just and loyal, Ravenclaw for the clever, and Slytherin for the cunning and ambitious.

Fortunately or unfortunately for her, she was rather certain she was Slytherin bound. Not that she particularly minded; cunning and ambition were positive qualities in her book. But Hazel had also heard the derision with which the name Slytherin was spoken… the house was almost universally reviled by the other three-quarters of the wizarding world, supposedly the birthplace of all dark wizards and witches. How would they react, Hazel wondered, when their precious savior ended up there?

Oh yes, she was aware of that quaint little fact. _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ had contained the story of her defeat of 'You-Know-Who', among other interesting… well, Hazel had a hard time thinking of them as anything more than fairy tales. After all, if they actually thought she had defeated some incredibly evil wizard back when she was still crapping in diapers, how accurate could the rest of the book be?

Although it was nice to know the names of her birth parents finally; Emma hadn't been able to mine the corpses' brains for information and her year-old brain hadn't contained anything other than 'mummy' and 'daddy'. James Potter and Lily Potter née Evans. The latter being more relevant to her than the former, seeing as how Lily was still one of her two biological parents, but the information as a whole satisfied a need deep down inside her that she hadn't even been aware existed.

Stepping back under the showerhead, Hazel let the water run through her hair, washing the shampoo away. In all honesty, she could have done without the famous name. She got enough of that when dealing with flatscans because of her mother's wealth and in the Savage Land because of Emma's position. Sadly, though, she could think of no way to get 'Hazel Frost' on the school's rolls apart from showing up and claiming her past as her present.

She wasn't looking forward to it, either. Rubbing conditioner into her hair, Hazel paused and shuddered as she thought back to her two encounters with the creepy old man who'd sold her a wand. His reverence regarding her hideous facial disfigurement had been more than a little disturbing, almost but not quite eclipsing his excitement at selling her a wand that was somehow connected to the wand of her parents' murderer. Claiming it had been a two step process, actually; the damn thing had exploded in her hand the first time she'd waved it for him, her quick reflexes and diamond form being the only things that saved her from severe burns. After that little incident, the wand's phoenix feather core had been stripped of the fragments of charred holly clinging to it and resheathed in eleven inches of rich, reddish brown English elm.

Still, if Ollivander's behavior was anything to go by, Hazel wasn't looking forward to her time in the wizarding world in the least.

A familiar presence approached the bathroom door and Hazel turned, leaning back to dip her head back under the water as three quick raps sounded. "Yes, Vi? And before you ask for the thirty-seventh time, I know it's you because I'm a telepath."

"You know, I still say it's not fair of you to make fun of me for things I think because I'm half-asleep but aren't stupid enough to say out loud." The door opened just wide enough to admit a slim, purple-haired girl, Violette Nowak stumbling over to the room's sink and splashing some cold water on her face to help shake off the remnants of her grogginess. "Are you almost done? We…"

"…have to be there at 11:00 AM. Leaving the hotel no later than 10:00 AM. It was 8:13 AM when you rolled out of the bed and came in here. I can take another forty-five minutes in here if I feel like it and still be out in time for you to have an hour of your own. Crud. Loofa?" A white puff came sailing over the top of the shower stall and hit her in the face. Hazel scowled at her attendant's giggles, catching it before it hit the tile floor. "Thank you, serving girl 'o mine. You may go now."

The frosted glass of the shower kept Hazel from properly seeing Vi but the exasperated sigh often accompanied a roll of the purple-haired mutant's eyes and so Hazel felt safe in assuming she was probably the recipient of both. "Yes, Mistress. Right away, Mistress. Seriously, though, I'm going to go put in the call for breakfast for us and the rugrats. I know I'm sticking with British, Laurel's keeping to her carnivore thing, and the quints are a mixed bag. Continental or British for you?"

Pausing, Hazel turned to eye her attendant as best she could. "That's a really stupid question, Vi."

"Right, right, Continental. Girlish figure and all that crap." Squirting a large glob of body wash onto her loofa, Hazel closed the cap on the bottle and hurled it up and over the top of the shower stall, grinning when Vi let out an indignant squeak and dodged, the bottle hitting the floor with a clatter. "Brat. I'm just saying, the good parts on women are made of at least some fat. It wouldn't kill you to eat eggs and bacon once in a while instead of fruit and brioche."

Scrubbing at her arms, Hazel shrugged even though Vi turning away to pick up the bottle of body wash meant her gesture went unseen. She tended to emote when talking telepathically to people in other rooms, too. Old habits just died hard. "And you could stand to eat a bit more fruit and a bit less fatty, greasy junk, especially with how much you like to wear skirts. The only reason Mother isn't on Laurel for her eating habits is because she burns more calories than she takes in."

The body wash came sailing back into the shower stall to hit Hazel on the head before dropping to the floor of the shower. "There's nothing wrong with my thighs. And just for that, I'm going to order you the same thing I'm eating for breakfast. And if you don't like it, you can go hungry."

Rubbing the top of her head, Hazel scowled as Vi sniffed and stalked out of the bathroom. Like hell would she be eating a greasy English breakfast. Someone was looking for a free one-way ticket to Lobotomyville. As she let the water run over her, washing the suds away, Hazel realized she wouldn't have it any other way. While Emma couldn't understand why Hazel allowed Vi so much freedom, Hazel in turn couldn't understand how her mother tolerated surrounding herself with weak-willed people who just nodded and smiled and followed orders. Given Vi was a constant fixture in her life and would be for the foreseeable future, Hazel found it easier to treat the girl as a close friend as opposed to a Blackberry with a pulse.

Then again, her mother often preferred the vinegar approach while she was more of a honey…

Turning off the water, Hazel slid the shower door open just far enough to find one of the two towels she'd laid out for herself, giving herself a quick rub down before wrapping it around her body. The second went around her head, helping leech water out of her mass of wet curls as she opened the bathroom door and reentered the bedroom. Seven heads turned to look at her and Hazel raised a brow. "Since when was my bedroom the official family dining room?"

"Something came for you. Knocked on my window." Laurel Frost nodded in the direction of the not-quite-identical quintuplets, who were flopped out across Hazel's bed, carefully avoiding her uniform. "They followed me over when I came to bring it to you." Bring what, Hazel wondered. Then Laurel pulled her hand out from behind her back, a very dead owl impaled on her glittering diamond claws, a box tied across both its legs. "Sorry. It kinda attacked me and… yeah."

Sighing, Hazel began mentally setting aside galleons to send to Flourish and Blotts as restitution. A good owl was expensive and the one stuck to Laurel's claws looked particularly sturdy. Fifty galleons; better safe than sorry, she decided. And another five for their trouble. "Next time, do us all a favor and just leave the window shut, yeah?" Laurel ducked her head, holding the owl out towards Hazel, who recoiled. "Err, thanks but no thanks. Go get a newspaper from Mother, put that down on the desk, then put the owl on that. Vi, shower. Runts… get the heck out of my room."

* * *

"Eek! Mom! Esme just burned me!"

"Mom! Celeste tried to choke me with one of the plants!"

"Mom! Sophie just soaked us!"

Emma groaned and lowered the paper she was reading before reaching up to rub her temples. Hazel had been a joy to raise - when she was there doing the work - and despite her accidental conception, Laurel too was a lovely child… well, except for her refusal to acknowledge the lower two tiers of the food pyramid. Then she'd visited Nathaniel Essex again on Erik's behest. 'Look at Erik. More children would mean more personal power. You could handpick their powers by bringing me the right DNA. You wouldn't have to carry them. Hire another nanny, you won't even have to do anything until they're old enough to be useful.' It had all sounded logical and brilliant…

Then her new 'quintuplets' had grown up.

Her youngest daughters had been little monsters by the time they entered school, sorely taxing the patience of the residents of the Savage Land who had chosen to take up teaching. Then their powers had kicked in automatically at age eight thanks to the trigger Nathaniel had installed… and dealing with them had gone from irritating to hellish.

While it was easy to blame Tempest and Xi'an for not raising her children better, Emma realized most of it was her fault. She wasn't around much to handle problems herself and when she was, they got to see her favoring Hazel over them. Well, she couldn't change her lifestyle, she couldn't bring the little monsters places with her until they were brought under control, and Hazel… Hazel was her future heiress. Of course she was going to favor her eldest. Still. Maybe it was time to take a more active role in the upbringing of her daughters. "Sit down, all of you. Celeste, I don't care what Esme did, you don't use your powers on her. Esme, no lighting your sister on fire. Sophie… thank you for trying to help with your sisters, but I still don't want you five using your powers against each other. So in the future, let Tempest, Xi'an, or I deal with things. Okay?" Her youngest nodded and Emma turned her attention to the second oldest of her seven. "…Laurel? Please tell me that's not a dead bird."

"It's not a dead bird?"

Emma sighed. The things she had to deal with. At least Laurel wasn't gnawing on it… yet. "Alright, let's try something else. Why don't you tell me why you've got a dead bird?"

"Erm, it turns out Hazel ordered some stuff and had it mailed to us. The owl freaked and attacked me for some reason." Laurel held out the very dead owl for Emma to inspect. "Hazel told me to come get a paper from you to put down on her desk and put the owl on it until she can deal with it." At least one of her daughters had a good head on her shoulders, it appeared. Emma dug through the paper until she located the sports section, handing it to Laurel. "Cool. Thanks. Oh, and Vi took care of our breakfast. It'll be here in a bit."

Laurel disappeared to take care of her mess as the quintuplets seated themselves around the table, returning a moment later with Hazel right behind her. "Vi put in a breakfast order and then hopped in the shower. Hopefully she'll be out before it gets here, because I don't want to listen to her whine about cold food."

Grinning, Esme made a fist and then opened it to reveal a small flame dancing over her palm. "I can heat it back up for her."

"Please. I heard Mother yelling at you from my room. You're not going to be heating up anything for a while, Zippo." Leaving a seat between herself and the quintuplets, Hazel folded her hands in her lap and nodded at Emma. "Good morning, Mother."

A good head on her shoulders and good manners to boot. And the others wondered why she picked Hazel to accompany her when she left the Savage Land. Emma returned a slight nod as she folded up the _Times_, wanting to clean off the table for the breakfast that would be arriving for the girls. "Morning, Hazel. All ready to go?" Hazel nodded again. "Good. Oh, and one more time… what do we say if someone challenges you about Violette coming with you?"

Adopting a suitably snooty look - a key part of all things French in Emma's mind - Hazel dutifully recited the phrase that Emma had taught her in flawless, unaccented French. "J'ai entendu qu'il ya une belle école en France, à côté de Marseille."

"Perfect. Now…" A knock on the door interrupted Emma and she turned her attention to Phoebe. "Can you get that?" Nodding, Phoebe twisted in her seat and stuck her hand out towards the door, furrowing her brow in concentration before making a twisting motion. The knob slowly turned and then the door creaked open as Phoebe pulled her hand back. "Thank you, dear. You, standing in the hall with our food. Come in. You do deliver all the way to the table, don't you? If I'm going to pay you an outrageous fee to bring food to our rooms, I'd like to think this place will give me my money's worth…"


	2. Steam Train to Hogsmeade

Joe's Note: To those of you who recced (TtH), faved (FF.N), followed, and reviewed, thanks. I did my best to answer your questions in the reviews. If you didn't review, obviously I couldn't respond to your thoughts. For those of you who are wondering, Hazel may genetically be the daughter of Emma Frost and Lily Potter née Evans - which would make her body the half-sister of the original Harry Potter body - but the prophecy is still bound to the mind and soul that's being migrated from body to body and so she's still the Girl-Who-Lived and - magically speaking - the child of James and Lily for inheritance purposes. Not that any child of Emma Frost is particularly wanting for money…

* * *

**_September 1, 2001_**

* * *

As the 2001 Bentley Azure came to a stop in front of King's Cross, Hazel waited for Vi to open her door and step out before pushing the seat forward and following her. Thanks to the unique magical properties of her luggage, there was only one trunk between the two of them and when Vi returned from just inside the station's front doors with a cart, the pair manhandled the oversized trunk onto it. Thankfully, she'd opted not to buy a familiar this year; a cat carrier might have gone unquestioned, but an owl cage or a… whatever toads lived in… surely would have raised eyebrows. And Lord only knew what Laurel might have done to an owl, cat, or toad in the last week…

"Hazel." Pausing, Hazel looked back at her mother, who was in the process of moving from her old seat beside Hazel to sit beside Tempest up front. As much as Hazel would have preferred to have her mother accompany her all the way to the platform, she could understand her mother's desire to avoid the paparazzi and questions by staying outside. The magical world would probably prefer things that way too. "No matter what they do or say, you are my daughter. Remember that. And Violette… try not to commit any felonies." The purple-haired girl opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Emma. "I don't care if you think you'll get away with them. Behave."

"Yes, Mother."

"Yes, Miss Frost."

With that, Emma nodded to Tempest and the car merged back into traffic, leaving the two girls standing outside the train station with their luggage. Hazel nudged Vi in the ribs and the purple-haired girl rolled her eyes before getting into place behind the cart, pushing it through the front doors of King's Cross. It took the pair a few minutes to make sense of the map and navigate to the secondary building, only to find that… "Well this is lovely. The main building is tracks one through eight, and here's nine, ten, and eleven. I thought a track with a fraction sounded pretty stupid, but I figured maybe the British were just odd. Guess not. Now what?"

"Excuse me… are you looking for Platform 9¾ too?" The owner of the soft Scottish burr was a girl their own age, smiling shyly at them as she toyed with the wooden Star of David necklace around her neck. "When Professor McGonagall delivered my letter, we couldn't find a day good for both of us and so she gave my family a sheet with instructions on how to get to Diagon Alley, the platform, and even St. Mungo's in case I'm injured and my parents need to come see me. It's actually really simple." She pointed over to where a rather conspicuous group of redheads was clustered, the word 'muggle' drifting across the platform a few times before they lined up and began plunging through what appeared to be a solid brick pillar. "You just need to walk through the barrier."

As stupid as the idea sounded, Hazel couldn't really deny what she was seeing: one at a time, an older redheaded boy, slightly younger twin boys, a boy her age, a whining girl and their plump mother all walked through the wall and disappeared into thin air. "So it's just like the Leaky Cauldron, then? Some kind of spell to keep those who aren't supposed to know from seeing some sort of hidden passage? Oh, and I didn't get your name. You didn't offer it, which would probably be why… you should do that when you interrupt a private conversation, you know. No reason to compound rudeness with more rudeness."

Ducking her head at the gentle rebuke, the girl hid her blushing face behind a curtain of reddish-blonde hair. "Catrìona Ramsay. You can call me Catherine or Cat if it's easier for you; my mum wanted to just name me Catherine but my father works for BBC Alba and insisted I have a Gàidhlig name. Catrìona was their compromise."

"Well, my purple-haired friend here is Violette Nowak and I… am Hazel Frost." Catrìona's head snapped up, her jaw dropping as she stared at Hazel. "Yes, my mother is Emma Frost. From the face you're making, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you know who she is?"

Catrìona nodded rapidly. "Of course I know who Emma Frost is! She's bloody rich! Gosh, I talked to a few other kids while I was at Diagon Alley getting my supplies and I thought I was going to be the girl at Hogwarts with the most interesting life. You've probably been to every country on Earth by now and done everything there is to do. Well, except learn magic of course."

Thanks to her mother's lessons in recognizing and interpreting body language, Hazel easy picked up on the slight frown and clenching of the Scot's hand around her necklace as she said the word 'magic'. There was a story there, that much was obvious, but Hazel resisted the temptation to go digging through the girl's mind to find it. There was undoubtedly a several hour journey ahead of them from London to this Hogsmeade place and wheedling it out of Catrìona would give her something to do along the way. Or not. If she wanted to talk about it, it'd probably come out; if not, it wouldn't. "You'd be surprised. All over America, of course, since that's where a lot of Frost International's property is. But I've also been to Russian, China, Japan, and most of the countries in the European Union. I actually hadn't been to London before this week, strangely enough. Dublin, Edinburgh and Glasgow, but never London. Wait, I take it back. I was here once back when I was a year old. But this will be the first time when I'm old enough to remember."

"Really? Wow. I've travelled all over the Isles when my father went places for stories, but never Asia or the New World. And the only time I've even been to the Continent is when we went through to France for the Chunnel opening back in 1994, and I'm too young to really remember that." Walking side by side casually, Vi a few steps behind them pushing the cart with the trunk she shared with Hazel, the pair passed through the barrier and emerged onto Platform 9¾. Hazel winced as she took in the maroon steam engine sending puffs of smoke up into the air. Fireplaces, oil lanterns, and candles galore, and now a steam train. Her lungs were going to kill her by the end of her seven years of schooling, she just knew it. "Hmm. Hall Class." Looking over at Catrìona, Hazel raised a brow and the girl elaborated. "The engine. Never seen this one before, obviously, but it's a definitely a Hall Class locomotive. There are a few still in use on heritage railways, and I… what?" She gave a defensive shrug at Hazel's amused smile. "My father likes trains. We end up at a different heritage railway each time we go on vacation. Sometimes two, three, or more if he can find an inn in the right spot."

Hazel nodded; her own mother tended to book hotels as close as possible to major shopping areas for the same reason. Everyone had their individual idea of fun and she wasn't going to mock anyone for theirs. One of her favorite parts of traveling, after all, was stargazing from different places in the world to see how the view differed. "Well, let's get onboard. Those cars look modern enough. Maybe they have HEPA filters and my lungs will stop feeling like they're going to climb up out of my throat and make a run for it." Not likely, given the wizarding world had yet to evolve from candles and wall torches to electric lights yet, but she could dream. Staring at her trunk, Hazel frowned. "You know, I almost wish Jean was here right now. Almost. Not quite though. Alright, how about this?" Turning, she pointed at the trunk and plastic cat carrier sitting on Catrìona's trolley. "If you help Vi wrestle her trunk onto the train, then she'll help you with your trunk. And I'll grab the cat."

"Erm… okay?" After nodding her agreement, Catrìona furrowed her brow and looked around in confusion. "Where's your trunk?" Hazel pointed to the trunk on the trolley that Vi had been pushing. "I thought that was Violette's?"

"Call me Vi. And it is. Her and I share it." The purple-eyed mutant gestured to the two locks, one with a snowflake painted beneath it and the other marked with a purple lightning bolt, before shooting Hazel a dirty look. "She's trying to get out of physical labor. Again."

Hazel just offered up an angelic smile. "Of course I am. I'm a Frost. It's why my mother pays you to follow me around, remember? I'm just being nice and sharing my toys with my new friend Catrìona here. Now, chop chop. Sooner the trunks are on the train, the sooner we can sit back and relax."

Mouth opening and closing, Catrìona stared at Hazel in disbelief until Vi reached over and covered the girl's mouth, shaking her head. "Don't bother. I've been trying to get her to carry her own weight for years now with no luck. And her mother just encourages her. Just be glad she's evidently decided you're a friend, or she'd be ordering you around too instead of asking you."

* * *

Closing the glass door of their compartment with a casual flick of her wrist, Hazel froze and blinked as a meaty thump rattled the door in the metal rails. Turning around, she stared in shock and disgust as a brown-haired girl slid down to her knees, her hands clamped over her nose and a large splash of blood on the glass at roughly the same level her head had been at. Slowly opening the door, Hazel stared down at the newcomer. "Wow. That looked like it hurt. Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm not okay! I just got hit in the face with a glass door." Glaring up at her with watery brown eyes, the Irish girl pulled her hands away from her face and eyed them for a moment before turning to show Hazel the blood on one. "I think you broke my damn nose!"

Hazel looked back at Vi and Catrìona in disbelief before returning her attention to the bleeding girl. "Well if I'd known someone was going to try and follow three total strangers into a compartment they weren't invited into, maybe I would have held off on shutting the door behind what I thought was the last person. And if you want to get all technical about it, you didn't get hit with a door. You hit the door."

Pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket, the girl tilted her head back as she attempted to stop the bleeding. "Har bloody har. And didn't your parents explain this to you?" Sighing, the girl used her free hand to gesture back over her shoulder at the opposite compartment, which Hazel knew from an earlier glimpse contained a group of teenagers in red-trimmed robes. "Nobody else wants first years and there's not enough compartments for anything fewer than four to a compartment. There are three of you, so I figured I'd make four. Or if you were waiting for someone, you'd tell me. Wasn't expecting a door to the face."

Looking the girl up and down, Hazel pondering the situation at hand before making a decision. The compartment could easily seat six and evidently needed to seat at least four. So far, as the girl had pointed out, there were three of them and none of them were a part of the world they were about to go riding off to join: one muggle, one muggleborn, and one… whatever the heck she counted as, being the test tube baby of a muggleborn witch and a mutant. And rather than the school uniform or muggle clothes, this girl was wearing kelly green robes much like those Hazel had seen all over Diagon Alley. Chances were, she was either a pureblood or a wizarding-raised half-blood. Either would be useful enough for Hazel's purposes. "No, our parents didn't tell us. We're all muggle-siders here. But, if you'd like to introduce yourself, we obviously have room for one more and it'd be nice to have someone who can tell us these sorts of things."

A few different expressions warred across the girl's face for a moment, and then she nodded and stepped forward, Hazel scooting back to avoid having those bloody hands anywhere near her white clothes. "Ráichéal Murray. Any chance I can get a hand with this damn trunk?"

"Violette Nowak. Call my Vi if you actually want me to answer."

"Catrìona Ramsay."

"Hazel Frost. And Vi, be a dear and help Ráichéal with her trunk." Sighing, Vi rose obediently from the seat she'd just settled into and waited while Ráichéal used her wand and a mumbled word to stop her bleeding nose, wiping her hands off before stuffing her handkerchief into her robes again and working with Vi to manhandle her trunk up into the luggage rack. When the two took seats again, Vi switched from Catrìona's side of the compartment to sit with Hazel and Ráichéal took up a position beside the Scot. "So, this whole robes thing is… interesting. Not quite my style, but pretty in their own way."

Ráichéal smiled and turned back and forth. "Thanks. Oh, and just in case nobody told you, the school's going to shit a ward stone when you show up in that. You don't fiddle with the uniform. I mean, it's so unchanging, I could probably show up in the ones my great-grandmother has stored in her attic and nobody would notice. Madam Malkin probably only sold that to you so she could scam you out of more galleons when you get sent back to buy a real uniform. And…" Her eyes shifted from Hazel's pure white variation on the Hogwarts uniform to Vi's outfit. "…what in Merlin's name are you wearing on your hands?"

Vi rose and shrugged off the student robe she'd thrown on that morning so Ráichéal could get a proper look, the black wool puddling around her feet as she held her hands out for inspection. Unlike Hazel, Vi had opted for the full traditional Hogwarts uniform, albeit with charms tied to Hazel's house rather than her own. Which made sense, given she wouldn't be sorted, but had confused the staff at Madam Malkin's something fierce. What had caught Ráichéal's eye - and now had Catrìona gaping as well - were the metal gloves that the purple-haired girl wore. "They're for grounding. Keep my powers from flaring up and causing problems. And they mean I throw wicked punches."

"Grounding? I don't get it. Why would you need to be grounded?" Catrìona's eyes wandered over the gloves, the redhead even gathering the courage to reach out and touch one, examining Vi's hand from every angle possible. "Hmm. Well, logic says something involving electricity. Oh! Was all of your accidental magic electrical? I fried the television once when my father refused to let me watch what I wanted because the Rangers were on. Should have seen the folks at Maplin trying to figure out how to weasel out of honoring the warranty and giving us a new telly…"

Lips quirking up, Vi pulled her robe back on before returning to her seat. "Something like that." Looking over at Hazel, she nodded in Catrìona's direction and the blonde thought for a moment before giving an answering nod. Chances were that the information would get out quickly. Why not begin with a controlled release of information? "Actually, to be honest, I'm not a witch at all. I'm just here because where Hazel goes, I go." Gingerly pushing a hidden release switch on her right glove with one of the fingers of her left hand, she waited as the glove hissed and split so she could remove her hand, rolling her wrist as she celebrated her hand's temporary freedom. After a few seconds of that, she balled her hand into a fist before unfurling her fingers, purple electricity arcing between them. "I'm a mutant."

"Holy poop!"

"Sweet Merlin. How are you… you shouldn't be able to do magic like that at your age, and especially not without a wand." Reaching out, Ráichéal poked at the electricity, quickly finding out it wasn't an illusion when a tendril licked out to burn the tip of her finger. "Shit! That hurt!"

After closing her fist and absorbing the electricity back into her body, Vi rested her fist back on the opened glove and waited as it whined and locked back into place around her hand. "I told you, I'm not a witch. I'm a mutant. I can create, control, and direct electricity. Hazel's extra special, though, if you want to freak out. She's a witch and a mutant."

Ráichéal and Catrìona turned eager eyes to her and Hazel sighed, elbowing Vi in the ribs. "Thanks a lot. I wanted to give them a little time to absorb the idea of mutants before dumping that on them." _'Alright, as far as any student's going to know, I'm a transmorph only. If you say otherwise, I'm tossing you out back out onto the platform… through the compartment wall.'_ Vi pantomimed zipping her lips and Hazel eyed her for a moment before turning to the brunette and redhead sharing their compartment and shifting. Smells disappeared, colors became muted, and even the faint teases of air against her skin abruptly ceased as she went from flesh and blood to hard, glittering diamond. "This is my mutant power. I'm almost unbreakable like this and don't need to eat, drink, sleep, or even breathe. But I can't use my magic like this, so it's not something I can use much around school." Not seeing any way to take the demonstration further, Hazel reverted to her normal flesh form, coughing a bit as London's air renewed its assault on her lungs.

"Morgana's saggy tits. That's… fucking hell, I get born a freak and all I get is really bad eyes, strange hair, and I bleed a lot when I'm cut." Well, that answered that one. Hazel had been wondering if the twin white streaks in Ráichéal's otherwise brown hair were an aesthetic choice or natural… piebaldism it was, evidently. Which also accounted for the glasses with lenses so thick they could stop a bullet. And anemic, too, if her rant was anything to go by. Poor girl. "And you get to shoot lighting… and turn into diamond? That's it. I want new parents. Or at least a new father. It's his caber of a 'pure' family tree that fucked me up, according to my mother and grandmother."

Hmm. Sinister was always looking for lab rats for his experiments and here was a source of new confirmed magical genetic material for him to examine. Maybe by looking at Ráichéal's DNA compared to Hazel's own, he could isolate a 'magic gene' for replication? And she had a good amount of her past years' allowance stashed away; there wasn't much for her to spend it on when all her needs and ninety percent of her wants were provided for her. There was one need, however, that she couldn't acquire through normal means. "It could be arranged, if you really want to. It's a bit pricey, though; I'll go fifty-fifty with you on payment if you agree to join Vi as a fellow attendant for the next seven years. Comes with free world travel to exotic locations when we're not at school. Although I hope you're good with little siblings, because I have six."

Ráichéal's jaw dropped. "Muggles can do that sort of thing?" Hazel nodded; hopefully Catrìona wouldn't cause problems by asking questions and revealing that it was well beyond the range of average muggles. "Seven years if you go cover three-quarters of it."

Before Ráichéal could get any closer to signing over the next seven years of her life, the door slid open again and a pair of Asian girls peered into the compartment. Hazel blinked, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of them. Were they… no, not twins. Close, though. Fraternal twin sisters like Lorna and Wanda, perhaps? They were both in the unmarked black robes of new students, and… hmm. Irish twins was another possibility. Or… she could actually talk to them instead of sitting here making wild guesses off of no information. "Hi there. Can we help you?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I can sit without help. Be pretty weird if I couldn't, you know?" Without waiting for permission, the girl grabbed one end of her trunk and teamed up with her doppelganger to wrestle it into the overhead rack. The pair then did likewise with the second girl's trunk and a cage containing a small, fluffy brown owl, and then the one who had spoken dropped into a seat beside Hazel. "Nice to meet you, by the way. My name is Li Mei-Xing. Call me Mei-Xing. Or Mei."

"Wug-chug-chug."

Rolling her eyes, Mei-Xing jerked her thumb upward at the luggage rack. "And the scarily intelligent fluff ball who understands an awful lot of English for being an Oriental Scops Owl is Sun Mao." Leaning against Hazel, she stretched out her leg and tapped a foot against the back of her companion's knee. "Sit down, Su, you're going to start making everyone else twitchy."

Oh yes, the quiet and shy girl was the one who was going to make people twitchy. Hazel nibbled on her lower lip as she watched the now-named Su seat herself, debating for a moment before reaching out with her mind to enter Mei-Xing's. To her surprise, she found that Mei-Xing didn't even consider her behavior rude; in Hong Kong, where space on public transportation was at a premium, one simply grabbed what they could find and was glad for it. Her brief brush against Hazel didn't even register either; it was nothing compared to being packed into a subway car like tuna in a can. And… Hazel decided to satisfy her curiosity as long as she was in there… Mei-Xing and Su were first cousins whose fathers were twins, which accounted for their looks.

Evidently deciding to take the guard portion of her duties seriously for the time being, Vi rose and gave a little tug on Hazel's right arm, encouraging the blonde to slide over against the window seat before plopping back down between her and Mei-Xing. "Alright, since you don't know us and we don't know you… once more around with the name game. I'm Violette Nowak. Call me Vi."

"Li Mei-Xing."

"Li Su."

"Ráichéal Murray."

"Catrìona Ramsay."

"Hazel Frost."

"Ron Weasley." Hazel blinked at the unexpected male voice, looking over at the doorway to find a freckly redhead standing there. "Have…"

Hazel gestured to the group of them, wondering how the boy could possibly be so stupid. While Su, Mei-Xing, and Ráichéal were all on the slim side, there really wasn't room to comfortably seat another person on either side of the compartment. And she always travelled in comfort. "Sorry, we're a bit full here. You're going to have to find a seat somewhere else."

"…why would I want to sit with a bunch of girls? Yuck." The face Ron made set the others to giggling quietly, even as Hazel blushed faintly. Missteps like that weren't something she was used to, nor did she enjoy the embarrassment of making them. Perhaps, given these magical people had no more resistance to her powers than the average flatscan, it would be safe to use them more frequently. Things did seem awful quiet without the constant quiet whisper of voices in her head… "No, I wanted to know if any of you had seen Harry Potter wandering the train. I'm sup… err, I heard he's muggle-raised and so my mum thought he might need a hand getting settled in. And for some reason, she made him a sandwich because she says it's not healthy that all we can buy off the trolley is candy."

Not 'bloody likely', to borrow one of the Britishisms that her mother had used during her Madonna-esque, 'sounding British makes me seem classier' phase. Her new resolution at the forefront of her mind, Hazel dipped into the redhead's mind… talking with his mother and a man who seemed to be the love child of Gandalf and Elton John… a secret second bag of belongings from his mother to add to his trunk, bought with the man's money as payment for his services… being cornered that morning for one last reminder of his duties… Hazel pulled back, narrowing her eyes. After a second's thought, she recognized the odd wizard in the memories from the same book she'd learned of her own celebrity in: Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore not only wanted Harry Potter at Hogwarts, but wanted him indoctrinated to follow certain beliefs. Why? To what end?

Whatever was going on in the man's mind, he hadn't entrusted the details to his eleven-year old tool and so Hazel had no further use for him. "No. No we haven't. So why don't you run along and leave us 'yucky' girls alone?" Grumbling, Ron stepped back and closed the door, leaving the sextet alone. "And good riddance."

Ráichéal let out a little snort of laughter at that. "Here's a piece of wizarding knowledge for you all: watch out for the Weasleys. They're all over the place; there's a family of them in Gob an Choire, a couple different families scattered across England and Wales… they breed like rabbits. Most of them are poor, too, because there aren't many jobs that let you support five or more kids comfortably and the ones that exist are filled already by the upper class purebloods who don't do that sort of thing." She looked over at the empty doorway where Ron had been standing. "I ran into his family in Diagon Alley while I was picking up my school supplies. Their father is a mid-level Ministry worker, the mum is a housewife, and they have at least five kids that I could see: four in school and one more starting next year. He's probably hoping to glue himself to Potter's bum so he can ride the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter's coattails to the land of new books and clothes that aren't hand-me-downs."

"Isn't that a little mean of you?" Catrìona looked over at the empty doorway and then at Ráichéal. "He could just be trying to helpful. 'Do unto others' and all."

Shaking her head, Ráichéal held her hand up over her head, then lowered it to chest level, and then down to just over her lap. "In the magical world, just like the muggle world, there are people with it all, people who get by, and people who could really stand to have more. There aren't a lot of ways to pull yourself up from one level to another. Attaching yourself to someone rich and powerful is the easiest way to do it. Ask my mum and she'll tell you that she did it for the gold. The Murrays were so desperate for a powerful, beautiful, pureblood to help freshen the bloodline that they turned her family from paupers to manor dwellers to get her to marry my father." Catrìona looked horrified at that and Ráichéal shrugged defensively. "Welcome to the dirty underbelly of the shiny wizarding world, a land where people would rather marry their first cousin to keep magic 'pure' than marry someone like one of you. Harry Potter, wherever he is, better watch out. Powerful, rich, famous, and the heir to a long line of purebloods that goes back to the Founders? A lot of people are going to be trying to sink their hooks into him."

Steepling her fingers under her chin, Hazel leaned back in her seat as she pondered Ráichéal's words. "Where do you think I'd fit into things?" Ráichéal raised a brow inquiringly and Hazel was reminded once again that she was entering a new world; very few people in the wizarding world knew of the Frost family, while it was nigh impossible to find someone in the muggle world who didn't. "Sorry, I forgot you weren't there when Catrìona and I were talking about my mother. She's rich. Not sure how rich she is compared to rich magical families, mind you, but she's fairly rich for a muggle."

"Hmm…" After spending a few minutes in deep contemplation, Ráichéal shrugged. "I don't know. Gringotts converts muggle money to galleons. So if someone married into your family, they could take that money and bring it into our world if they wanted. So I think that might put you high on the boys' priority list in a few years. Then again, the people who are into that sort of thing the most… well, they wouldn't want someone from a muggle background. So honestly? No clue."

Hazel frowned and tapped the tips of her fingers together as she pondered that. So there was a chance she was safe from being pursued for her fame, but a chance that people would treat her like any other rich… oh, who was she kidding? She'd be revealing her true self on the first night at Hogwarts and she'd already heard Ráichéal's assessment of what being Harry Potter would entail. "Thanks. That makes for… interesting food for thought. I guess."

"You're welcome?"

And as Hazel settled in to brood, the train finally lurched to life with a jolt and began to chug its way out of London.

* * *

An hour or two into the journey, Hazel finally came out of her funk and decided to engage her traveling companions in conversation. Unsurprisingly, the conversation had quickly enough turned to the safe discussion topic of girls everywhere: their looks. "So you can't use wizarding hair coloring charms to turn the white streaks brown?"

Shaking her head, Ráichéal reached up and twirled one of the streaks around her finger. "Nope. Don't ask me why, but nothing sticks. One time when my parents were painting my room, I got a bucket of paint dumped on me when I knocked over a ladder… I was pink from head to toe, except for those two white streaks. I might turn the rest of my hair some color, though. White to match, or maybe my house's color. If I'm going to stand out, why not really stand out?" Shifting on the seat, she pulled her wand free and gave it a twist as she tapped it against her head. "_Mutare coloris_." Abruptly, the brown majority of Ráichéal's hair turned the same shade of green as her robes. "Or maybe this? What do you think? Is it me?"

A knock on the door cut off any answers, and it slid open before any of them could reply to allow a bushy haired brunette girl entrance, a rather nervous, plump boy wringing his hands as he stood behind her. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

Making a face, Mei-Xing looked around at the others. "Yuck. Who has a toad for a pet these days?" The girl opened her mouth to reply, causing Mei-Xing to raise her hand. "Not actually a question. As for Neville's missing one… I haven't seen a toad. Anyone here seen a toad?" That garnered five negative responses and she looked up at the luggage rack. "Sun Mao, is someone's toad up there with you?"

"Wug-chug-chug."

"I think that's a no. Sorry." When nearly a minute passed and the boy had departed but the girl remained standing in their doorway, Mei-Xing arched a slim black brow at her. "Not to be rude, but is there something else you need?"

The brunette shook her head. "No. I was just hoping I could watch if she was going to reverse the spell on her hair. I haven't seen much in the way of real magic, except for when Professor McGonagall came to my house to deliver my letter and convince my parents it was real. I tried a few simple spells just for practice as soon as we pulled out of London and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery no longer applied, though, and they all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all - it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter - but I was ever so pleased, of course. I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Thank God their compartment was already full, Hazel thought. She'd met girls like Hermione before: those who found a single facet of their life that they excelled at and obsessed about it to an insane degree. True, she'd read bits of _Magical Theory_ and _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ already, on top of her time spent with _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, but she'd also visited Diagon Alley twice, plus found the time to visit the Millennium Wheel, Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, and the London Zoo - she'd felt particularly drawn to the Reptile House for some reason, much to her mother's disgust. She'd made it up to Emma, though, 'suggesting' a day enjoying the charms of Knightsbridge to her mother and putting up with being treated like a flesh and blood doll for stylists and saleswomen to coif and dress to her mother's satisfaction.

Before anyone could get a word in edgewise, the motor mouthed brunette huffed and turned to leave. "Well if you don't want to talk to me, you could just say so. Probably a bunch of rude purebloods like the ones I met at the front of the train. Come on, Neville. I'm sure we'll find Trevor eventually."

Thanks to her powers, Hazel knew they were all thinking it… but Vi was the first to verbalize their collective question. "What the hell just happened?"

"I have no idea." Ráichéal shuddered before leaning across Su and closing the door. "I'm really starting to wish I knew a locking spell, though. Anyways, moving on… you know what's funny? Six of us here… and not one of us is English. Or Welsh. We've got an Irish girl, a Scottish, two… err, where are you from?"

"China. Hong Kong's in China."

Ráichéal blushed faintly. "I knew that. So Irish, Scottish, two Chinese, and two Americans. This is probably going to be the most diverse class in Hogwarts history, and most of the diversity is sitting right here."

Technically, they were Savage Landers who also held citizenship in the outside world - dual in America and the UK for Hazel and Poland for Vi - but Hazel decided against correcting that misconception. No need to share everything in one afternoon. After all, she had seven years in which to blow the minds of her peers. "So, what's it like actually living in Hong Kong? Most of the times I've been, I see the airport, parts of Causeway Bay, and not a whole lot else…"

* * *

Pausing in the doorway of the compartment on her way back from the bathroom - the loo, she reminded herself, it was the loo over here - Hazel groaned as she spotted a familiar head of bushy brown hair making its way down the hall. "Heads up, everyone. Our favorite junior prefect is making the rounds again." Straining her ears, rather than her mind, Hazel picked up bits of the conversation the girl was having with the occupants of another compartment. "Something about being almost there and changing."

"Lucky us, then. Nothing for her to complain about." Ráichéal looked down at herself, her green robes now packed away in her trunk in favor of the black and white school uniform with the black robe thrown over it. Catrìona and the Li cousins had likewise switched over to their school uniforms over the course of the ride, and Vi and Hazel had both started the ride in their uniforms like Hermione evidently had. "Does everyone here have a galleon? Because I propose we start a pity fund: everyone tosses in a coin and it goes to whoever gets stuck in her house. There's a pretty good black market at Hogwarts; you can use your new money to buy headache relievers or chocolate off the upper years, or maybe pay one of them to cast a silencing spell on her for you."

Catrìona opened her mouth for a second and then closed it. "She really is annoying, isn't she? Alright, I guess I'm in. For two, even. She sounds like Ravenclaw material and I think that's where I might end up. So if anyone wants to match me…"

A small bag went around courtesy of the muggleborn, each girl dumping two gold galleons in. Vi let it pass without donating, nodding to Hazel. Hazel rolled her eyes and took out her moneybag, quickly counting out fifty-five galleons on the seat between herself and Vi for the owl she needed to pay Flourish and Blotts for and then reaching into the bag to pull out a handful of galleons, dropping them into the fund. "My mother changed nearly seven thousand galleons when we went. I can afford to support a good cause. Hmm. I wonder if the Ministry of Magic has an equivalent to the American 501(c)(3). Then mom could write off my donations on her taxes."

Just as the bag was marked with 'Hermione Fund' and stashed away in Ráichéal's pocket, the door rolled open to reveal the girl in question. "I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor and he says we're nearly there. So you should…" She trailed off, obviously not having expected to run into students who were actually ready to disembark. "Oh. You've changed already. Alright."

As Hermione stood there, obviously uncertain of how to disengage from the useless conversation she'd initiated, a disembodied voice drifted down from the ceiling, despite the lack of visible speaker or other means of projection. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

"Oh! We're almost there! And I have an entire car of people left to tell. See you at the sorting!" With that, Hermione turned and bustled away, her voice drifting down the hall as she stopped a few compartments down to lecture someone about having dirt on their nose.

Hazel just shook her head. "For her sake, I hope we don't end up sharing a house. I'm too young and pretty to go to Azkaban for murder."

Within the five minutes promised, the train slowed and finally rolled to a stop in front of a rather old-fashioned stone and wood train station. A crush of people came roaring down the hall and only after it had trickled to a stop did Hazel and the others emerge, bringing up the rear as the students divided into two groups: older students heading for a series of carriages with the most bizarre looking horses while the other first years - or Hazel guessed they were first years by their size and pure black robes - headed for a giant man with a lantern. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

She was here, Hazel thought, staring off into the distance at the imposing castle the carriages were trundling towards. What next?

Boats, it turned out. Rickety little wooden jobs, each big enough for two rows of two students each. "Six of us, no more than four to a boat…" Hazel turned to their group and pointed at Catrìona, Mei-Xing, and Su in turn. "Boat number one. And then Vi and Ráichéal with me in boat number two. That leaves one seat each for anyone brave enough to join us."

"If anyone wants to." The normally silent Su gestured to the crowd on the beach that was slowly moving towards the boats. "It's hard in the dark, but I think I counted forty-one of us including Violette and eleven boats. Plus the very tall man. So if they want to avoid us, they can."

And avoided they were. Eventually, the boats filled and pushed off, drifting slowly over the lake even without a visible means of propulsion. They crossed the lake, slipping into a cave cut into the side of the cliff the castle stood on and coming to a halt in a little underground harbor. Each boat came to rest in its own little slip and the students disembarked, following their guide up a flight of stairs and eventually out into the open just in front of the castle doors. A tall woman in green robes was awaiting them. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall looked them over slowly before nodding. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." The large man gave them all an encouraging smile before shuffling away to do… something… and McGonagall flicked her wand, the castle doors groaning as they swung open to admit the group. "Follow me."

As the students surged through the doors to follow her, Vi nudged Hazel with her elbow. "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

"…I could have sworn you were asleep by the second act when we went to see that last week."

"I was. But that's a classic. Not knowing that is like not knowing… I don't know, the Knights Who Say Ni."

"You're comparing Shakespeare to Monty Python? Philistine."

"Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries."


	3. The Sorting Hat

Joe's Note: For those of you who are wondering, Mei-Xing and Su refer to each other as tòng muí and tòng zé because Cantonese features over a dozen words for 'cousin', based upon how the two are related. Tòng muí is literally a younger female cousin of the same last name, while tòng zé is an older female cousin of the same last name. If they were Li Mei-Xing and Chang Su but still cousins, they'd be 'bíu' instead of 'tòng'. Then there are words for any paternal female cousin, any paternal male cousin, paternal cousins who are older than you…

* * *

**_September 1, 2001_**

* * *

It was a pity that the wizards who'd done the decorating here were probably dead and turned to dust, Hazel mused as she tagged along at the end of the crowd of first years entering the Great Hall. While she could have done without the floating candles, long and impersonal wooden tables, and the unfinished stone construction that was so 1500s, the ceiling that looked identical to the sky outside was a positively brilliant bit of magic if she did say so herself. She could definitely see her uncles embracing something like that for the palace's formal dining room and ballroom.

Maybe she could learn how to do it herself? Start with her own bedroom - because being able to stargaze in her pajamas from the privacy of her bed would be awesome - and then maybe make a bit of personal spending money hiring herself out? Then again… a bedroom with the charm might not be such a great idea. If the ceiling was permanently set in that state… ugh, waking up to sunlight through the window was bad enough. An entire ceilingful would be unbearable.

A clatter broke Hazel out of her musing and she looked down to find the woman that Hagrid had called Professor McGonagall placing a four-legged stool at the front of the line of first years. On top of the stool she placed a patched, frayed, and extremely dirty wizard's hat. Hazel's brow scrunched up in disgust at the sight of it. _'Okay, you're going to have to get sorted for me. I'm not putting that on my head.'_

Before Vi could return fire, the hat twitched and perked up, a pair of what had originally looked like creases furrowing like brows. Then a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat began to sing.

_"Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands - though I have none  
For I'm a thinking cap!"_

The entire hall burst into applause at the Sorting Hat finished its song and bowed to each of the four tables before going still again. Turning around, Ráichéal eyed the quintet she'd ridden the train with. "Just so we're all clear, even if we don't end up in a house together, we're still going to be friends, right? Because you lot are actually pretty tolerable. I'd hate to have to start from scratch. Especially if it means getting smashed in the face with a door again."

As McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment and summoned 'Abbot, Hannah' to the front, Hazel smirked. "At least you're finally admitting you're the one who hit the door instead of saying I hit you." Ráichéal stuck her tongue out and the others giggled. "But seriously there are five of us, since Vi doesn't count. Out of what, twenty girls I think I saw? The chances of us ending up together in a house, which means we'd be the entire girls' group for that house for this year, are astronomical. So cross-house friends is the best we can hope for. And we will be. It's not like they can ban us from talking to each other just because our robes have different colors of trim, right?"

"True. But, you English keep claiming my people say 'May you live in interesting times' - and if you can find me someone in China who actually says that, I'll give you my inheritance… wait, where was I? Oh, right. Interesting times. No thanks." Su eyed them for a moment before offering a hesitant smile. "No offense, because you seem nice but… well… tòng zé's a menace and if you get along with her, I'm probably safer staying as far away from you all as possible. The only reason I rode with her is because our fathers told her to look out for me."

Hazel could understand that; there were a few mutants that she tolerated for Violette's sake but would gladly be rid of if she could without her companion having a fit. Su, on the other hand, actually had a choice and was choosing to exercise it. Good on her. Not to mention that Mei-Xing and Su were close enough in appearance that she could easily see herself confusing one for the other on a casual glance and wouldn't that be embarrassing? No Su meant only one Li and she couldn't possibly mistake Mei-Xing for one of her other friends. "Okay. Well, good luck in whatever house you end up in, then. And hope you're not with Granger." Turning back to Ráichéal, she nudged the girl in the ribs. "I hope we're in the same house. I still want those lessons on cosmetic charms and it'd be weird doing that in a public bathroom or some random empty room."

"And you still owe me a box of that muggle junk to see if it will work on my hair." Hazel had a suspicion it would; if there was some sort of magic tied to Ráichéal's piebaldism that kept other magic from masking it, how would it block a muggle method? There was no magic to interfere with. "Now get ready. Someone named Finnigan is under the Hat, so you should be up next."

"Gryffindor!"

"Granger, Hermione."

The group watched in nervous anticipation as the pest from the train raced up to the stool, hopping into place and bouncing impatiently until McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat into place. Almost immediately, her mouth began moving but if she was actually vocalizing anything, it was too low for Hazel to hear.

* * *

_'While I see a deep sense of curiosity and a brilliant intellect, Ravenclaws tend to be creators and tinkerers. You, on the other hand, are a hoarder. So we'll set that aside as a possibility, but… hmm. Muggleborn, so despite your ambitions, Slytherin might not be the best choice. You're far too non-confrontational to survive in that house. Gryffindor, you say? Why would… ah, because Dumbledore was? Far from the first time I've received such a request, although you're one of the more stubborn to make it. Hmm. Let's make an experiment of it, hmm? I don't find you particularly well suited for the house but you dearly wish to be there. In seven years, I want you to sit down and write a book about whether you should have let the Sorting Hat place you in Ravenclaw or if you were truly happy with…'_

* * *

"Gryffindor!"

As the girl rose and trotted over to sit with the rest of the red and gold-trimmed students, Professor McGonagall shot her an unreadable look before moving on. "Greengrass, Daphne."

"Slytherin!"

"Hopkins, Wayne."

By now, all the girls in her group were looking at Hazel oddly save for Vi. "Didn't you say your name was Hazel Frost? Several times?" Hazel nodded and Mei-Xing pointed up at where the newest Hufflepuff was currently sliding off the stool. "Then why are we on Hs and you're still here with us?"

Hazel's lips quirked up. "Magic?" Waving one hand, she dismissed her companions' questions. "I promise, you'll find out in a few minutes. I'm going to be sorted when it's my turn, honest." Mei-Xing still looked like she wanted to protest, but the sudden 'Li, Mei-Xing' from the front of the hall distracted her. Giving Hazel one last scowl, she stomped to the front and threw herself onto the stool, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at the blonde as the Sorting Hat was lowered onto her head. After a few seconds, it came to a decision.

* * *

_'Well aren't you a feisty one? You could have stayed in Hong Kong, a safe place you knew well, but decided to come to Hogwarts like your mother. I suppose that could fall under courage or loyalty to your family, but given that you'd drive the Hufflepuffs up the wall in short order, I think you'd be better off in…'_

* * *

"Gryffindor!"

"Oh come on! I don't want to be in the same house as Granger!" Silence descended upon the Great Hall and Hazel was pretty sure she could hear McGonagall's teeth grinding. Mei-Xing looked over at the glaring professor and gulped. "Erm, not that there's anything wrong with your house, Professor McGonagall. House pride. Yay lions. Crush those snakes. And ooh. I get the pity fund. Cìu huk." McGonagall's eyes narrowed further at that and she snatched the Sorting Hat off of Mei-Xing's head, the Chinese girl sliding off the stool and jerking a thumb back over her shoulder. "Get up here quick, tòng muí, before I make an even bigger idiot out of myself." With that, she bounced over to the Gryffindor table and threw herself down, making a point of putting plenty of space between herself and Hermione.

Without waiting for McGonagall's permission, Su slipped through the crowd and replaced her cousin on the stool. The professor made a point of calling out 'Li, Su' before dropping the Hat onto the girl's head. After a much quicker period of examination than Mei-Xing had warranted, the Sorting Hat decided to split the cousins. Not that Hazel thought Su would mind; she couldn't really picture the quiet girl in Gryffindor with Mei-Xing.

* * *

_'I… well bugger, this is easy.'_

* * *

"Ravenclaw!"

After Su joined her housemates, the Hat went through a few other students, including a thoroughly unpleasant looking 'Malfoy, Draco', before reaching 'Murray, Ráichéal'. Bounding up to the stool, the Irish girl snatched the hat out of McGonagall's hands and jammed it onto her head to cut off the whispers that were already starting. "Oh, just take a picture, will you? It lasts longer. And I can flip you off later when the professors aren't looking."

"Miss Murray!"

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"Wow, it's like you know me already…" There was a low chuckle from the middle of the Head Table, diverting McGonagall's attention for a moment before she refocused and jammed the hat onto Ráichéal's head. "Ugh. When was the last time someone cast a fabric refreshing charm on this thing? It stinks."

* * *

_'Óiche mhaith, Miss Murray. Ah, I do love it when someone manages to ruffle Minerva. Although I could have done without the comment about my odor; it's not my fault so many preteen boys are lacking in basic hygiene. Now, let's see where we'll be putting you. Not to be rude, but you're not particularly courageous, bright, or ambitious. Oh, you're smart enough and have goals in life, but neither is what defines you. You are, however, hard working and possess a strong sense of loyalty when it comes to your family… and perhaps for the first time a group of friends. So, I suppose I'll be sending you to…'_

* * *

"Hufflepuff!"

Ráichéal pulled the hat off her head and glared at it, opening her mouth to reply but shutting it in the face of McGonagall's stony expression. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor now that she had a house she could actually lose points for, she retreated to the Hufflepuff table. The sorting continued on, through 'Nott, Theodore', 'Parkinson, Pansy', and two Patils… and then the name Hazel had been waiting for. "Potter, Harry."

And now… showtime. Shrugging off her white outer robe - she wanted everyone to see when her patch and tie changed colors - Hazel draped it over Vi's waiting arm before striding forward. She smirked as conversation around her went from whispers to a roar, everyone in the Great Hall with thoughts to offer about the misdressed blonde girl claiming to be their savior. Reaching the stool and the stunned professor, Hazel simply reached up and pushed her bangs to one side, assuming her infamous scar would serve as identification enough. It did and McGonagall gestured to the stool, allowing Hazel just enough time to seat herself before lowering the Sorting Hat onto her head.

_'Hmm. Difficult. Very… oh, who am I kidding? Dumbledore wanted me to test you, to see where you would go if I offered you choices, but there's really only one place you belong. I have to ask, though, aren't you supposed to be the Boy-Who-Lived?'_

_'Well, if anyone had bothered to ask or even research instead of just writing a fairytale and passing it off as a historically accurate account…'_

_'Touché. Be careful, young lady. Voldemort may be gone but you'll find plenty of his follower's children in…'_ "Slytherin!"

"Hmm. Green. It'll go with my eyes, don't you think, Professor?" As Hazel pulled the Hat off her head, the Great Hall was so silent that she could have heard a rat fart. A weak smattering of applause came from the green and silver table and she headed over to join her new housemates, Vi breaking away from the other first years to join her. As they reached the end where the first years were seated, Hazel took a seat beside the blonde named Daphne and Vi grabbed the seat opposite, by the side of a redhead named Tracey Davis if Hazel's memory served her correctly. Nobody seemed inclined to speak with her and so Hazel was content to watch the rest of the sorting quietly.

"Ramsay, Catrìona."

* * *

_'A hunger for knowledge I see in you, along with a good deal of cunning. You aren't like the Granger girl; she seeks to accumulate knowledge for knowledge's sake and questions little, while you seek because you question. You're still uncertain of how you fit into our world and how our world fits into your views of life. I foresee deep philosophical debates on the nature of life, the universe, and everything in your future, which will be most easily found in…'_

* * *

"Ravenclaw!"

"Weasley, Ronald."

* * *

_'Hmm. Relative after relative has gone into Gryffindor and you want to follow in the rest of your family's footsteps. Although I'm not sure you're entirely suited for Gryffindor… that deal you made with the headmaster is quite Slytherin of you, you know. But no, a Weasley and a Malfoy sharing a dorm would just result in bloodshed. Wait. What's this? You root for the Cannons, eh? Even though they haven't had a winning season in your lifetime? I know just where to put someone with that kind of loyalty…'_

* * *

"Hufflepuff!"

After a quiet, dark-skinned boy named 'Zabini, Blaise' was sorted into Slytherin and sat down between Daphne and a weedy looking boy, the man she recognized from pictures as Albus Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Dumbledore returned to his seat as the students clapped and cheered, and Hazel met Vi's eyes across the table. The blonde knew all about people who played at being less than they were to be underestimated; a good number of the Savage Land's mutants had fallen to Vi's vicious electrical attacks after allowing her to lull them into complacency. She wouldn't make the same mistake.

Little pops filled the air and the table groaned under the sudden weight of all sorts of food, Hazel recognizing most of the dishes but spotting some that were foreign even to someone as well traveled as her. As she did her best to dish up a plate of food her mother wouldn't glare her to death for eating - mashed potatoes, corn, and baked chicken - she began reaching out with telepathic tendrils, digging into the minds of her fellow Slytherin first years to get to know them.

The first mind she chose to invade was that of a boy with hair as pale as hers, the apparent ringleader of a tight clump of five first years. Draco Malfoy. Hazel frowned before remembering why the name sounded familiar - apart from hearing his name called during the sorting, of course. One Lucius Malfoy had claimed to be an unwilling follower of Voldemort after the war ended and had been pardoned of his crimes. If the Sorting Hat was to be believed, though, he might not have been quite as unwilling as he wanted people to believe. And Draco's memories of his father only backed that up: the man was a hardcore blood purist who had passed on his bigotry to his son. Somehow, Hazel doubted the immature boy would be able to resist the urge to try and torment her for her half-blood status and… well, she didn't see that going too well for him. The only real question was how long would it take Draco to learn his lesson and seek a new target?

Bookending Malfoy were two boys that didn't require much in the way of inspection or consideration. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle reminded Hazel of Fred Dukes: big, strong, and dumb. While being big and strong would normally be a plus, she was pretty sure it would just make them bigger targets when spells started flying. Not threats in the least, she decided. Liabilities to Draco, actually, insofar as she doubted they'd do anything but get in the way if the blonde got into a fight.

Another liability was the black-haired girl sitting directly across from him. Pansy Parkinson. Hazel scrunched up her nose in disgust as she eyed the girl. Evidently Ráichéal wasn't the only one suffering the negative affects of being a bit too pure; the girl looked like a pug. She was also betrothed to the Malfoy heir by way of a contract their parents had signed. While Draco was still largely in the 'girls are gross' phase alongside Ron Weasley, that would change as he aged and then she'd make a great way to get at Draco without directly attacking him. Hazel felt a momentary flash of guilt for thinking that, but a second scan of Pansy's mind caused it to evaporate fairly quickly. The girl was a bigoted, vain, worthless little brat with no redeeming qualities that Hazel could find.

Of course, to get at Pansy, she'd have to go through the girl's own Crabbe and Goyle: Millicent Bulstrode. The brutish, troll of a girl was as big as the boys and about as bright, as best Hazel could tell. Worthless. So out of nine peers in here year, a full five of them were wastes of space. Suddenly, Hazel found herself regretting her choice of house and wondering when the house had become one of cunning and ambition in name only.

Her faith in her house was mildly restored as she poked into the mind of Theodore Nott. He was part of the same bigoted, blood purity obsessed group that Draco and his flunkies came from, but at least he seemed to have functional brain cells - unlike Draco's bookends, Pansy, or Millicent - and the ability to use them rather than relying on parroting what he heard his parents say. He'd be another one to watch; Draco had power over the others but lacked direction, while Theodore could be the one who provided that direction, operating as the metaphorical power behind the throne.

Blaise Zabini was an odd cookie, if she did say so herself. As far as Hazel could tell, while the dark-skinned boy believed in blood purity like the others, he looked down on the children of Death Eaters for their parents' actions as part of a terrorist organization - such behavior being beneath a proper pureblood. He was on speaking terms with Draco and Pansy but had no actual attachments to anyone in the house, nor the inclination to change that. Shrugging, Hazel moved on. He wasn't going to join the bloc that she'd probably find herself opposing and her blood status meant he'd avoid her like the plague. Hmm. Maybe he'd at least be useful as a referee for duels; he'd probably find it amusing to watch those he found inferior battling it out.

Tracey Davis was the yang to Blaise's yin. While she had only one friend in Slytherin, that was more from lack of opportunity due to her half-blood status than lack of desire. She was, as the Sorting Hat had told Hazel members of the house should be, cunning and ambitious, with a desire to prove herself to those who looked down on her because of her muggleborn mother. Hazel wasn't sure how the girl would fit in with the group of friends she'd met on the train - or if she'd want to - but the potential was there.

Which brought Hazel full circle, ending her round of mental rummaging with an inspection of Tracey's sole friend and Hazel's neighbor, Daphne Greengrass. She was a pureblood and a believer in blood superiority on the surface, but not from a Death Eater family and willing to overlook it when it suited her purposes. Such as her friendship with Tracey or when she wanted to go shopping on Oxford Street in London with the redhead. Daphne and Pansy had some sort of history that meant the blonde wouldn't be joining Draco's clique just out of general principle, but there was still the possibility that she'd remain a wild car like Blaise and keep Tracey with her. She'd sleep on it for a day or two, Hazel decided, then figure out whether or not to actively court Daphne as a friend.

Hazel continued to ponder the matter of potential Slytherin friends - and how to handle the accusations and questions over her true identity that would inevitably fly next time she saw Mei-Xing, Catrìona, and Ráichéal - through dinner and dessert. Finally, after Vi had consumed a truly frightening amount of sweets and all the place settings had disappeared to leave the tables bare once more, Dumbledore rose to his feet again. Conversation trickled off as attention came to rest on the elderly wizard, waiting for him to speak. "Ahem. Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

"Old fool's finally gone senile." Draco's voice drifted down the table, making Hazel eye the boy oddly. Really? Being told to avoid somewhere if one wanted to remain alive was a sign of senility? Had it occurred to the boy that perhaps it was something as simple as renovations and they didn't want anyone falling to their death through a giant hole in the floor or some such? She quickly dipped into his mind, snorting and shaking her head. Nope. He just wanted another excuse to mock someone his father dislike. Oh, these next seven years were going to be positively delightful. "When we get down to our common room, I'm going to write father straight away and…"

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" The older students at the Slytherin table groaned and ducked their heads, making Hazel wonder what was coming. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!"

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts,  
Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald,  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling,  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot."_

Hazel watched the whole affair in mute horror as the students of the other three tables sang along, no two songs sounding quite alike. Vi was the only one at the Slytherin table singing, using what Hazel was pretty sure was a Spice Girls song as the base. The redheaded twins she'd seen at King's Cross were the last to finish, singing along using a funeral march, and then Dumbledore wiped a tear from his eyes. "Ah, yes, music. A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

A sextet of older students approached their end of the table, each wearing a green and silver badge with a large 'P' on it. The group eyed the first years for a moment before the eldest of the three boys in the group stepped forward. "Alright, runts, we're your prefects. Shut up, stand up, and line up. After we get downstairs, we may or may not answer some questions for you, depending on what our friends have planned. If we don't, you can either go ask someone who gives a damn or stay ignorant. I really don't care."

Hazel raised an eyebrow at the brusque treatment but joined the back of the line obediently, trailing behind the other Slytherins with Vi as they exited the Great Hall. They were directed down a hallway that took them away from the Great Hall, slowly descending into the bowels of the school. Finally, they came to a stop in front of what looked like an otherwise normal, utterly featureless stretch of wall. "This is the portrait hole for the Slytherin common room. Notice the lack of portrait. So unless you want to wander the hall looking like an idiot, I recommend you find something about this stretch of wall you'll have an easy time remembering. The password right now is 'fiat ater'. We pick the new password during our fortnightly…"

"Wow. A three-syllable word. Be still my beating heart. Someone's gone and developed an education in the English language."

"…shut up, Mindy." After lightly cuffing his companion - a slightly chubby brunette girl with glasses and a prefect badge to match his - upside the head, the boy continued his speech. "As I was saying, the new password is picked during our fortnightly, which is every other week for you mental midgets like Melinda here, Thursday prefect meetings and it's officially changed by the first prefect out the hole for breakfast on Friday. Make sure you see a prefect at breakfast those Fridays to get the new password. Otherwise, you'll be stuck in the hall waiting for someone who has it. Now… fiat ater."

At the prefect's words, the stones that made up the wall began to wriggle and part like the bricks in the barrier between the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, revealing a shadowy passage. The Slytherins began to stream through, the older students first with the younger years bringing up the rear. Finally, only Hazel and Vi were left in the hall. Leaning forward, Hazel peered into the dark tunnel. "Age before beauty, Vi."

"You're lucky I like having a roof over my head and clothes to wear." Taking a deep breath, Vi entered the passage, tiny bolts of electricity sparking from the metal pins in her hair and impacting against the stone walls, lighting the way for Hazel. After twenty feet or so, the path snaked left and then right quickly before dumping them into a large room lit with greenish lamps. The entire far wall was a sheet of glass; it was pitch black beyond it but Hazel could barely make out some sort of aquatic plant brushing against the glass. The lake. That would look gorgeous during daylight hours, she bet, assuming they weren't so far down that light didn't penetrate. But they hadn't gone that far down… had they? "Huh. Cool. They didn't have anything like this in the muggle school I used to go to."

Sigh. Was Vi trying to start a fight on her first night there? As Hazel tried to figure out how to deal with Vi and her big mouth, one of the older students drew his wand, twirling it slowly as he stared at the pair of them. "So, is it true then? Are you really Harry Potter?"

Hazel shrugged. "In a way. It's complicated. I prefer to be called Hazel, since that's been my name for almost a decade now. Why? Does it really matter? This isn't going to be the part where you rush me for autographs or something, is it? Because I get enough of fame and all its 'perks' in the muggle world with the paparazzi. I don't need my own housemates treating me differently. It would make the next seven years really awkward."

"Does it matter? Does it matter?" The boy looked around incredulously before breaking into raucous laughter with the other boys he was sitting with. "Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord. Most of us either have a parent in Azkaban or who had to bribe their way out of trouble because of him. We'd either be wealthier or have two parents if it wasn't for him. And you didn't think it would matter to us that he got sorted into our house?"

"She."

"Whatever."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Hazel narrowed her eyes. She knew what gender she was, damn it, even if these people refused to acknowledge it. "She. Or, if you don't mind, can we go with second person instead of third? You know, 'you'? It's kinda weird being referred to in the third person like that. Reminds me of official functions at home, where my mother sometimes has to use first person plural… the royal 'we' and all that."

"Whatever." His attention wandered a bit to the right, his eyes sweeping up and down over Vi as he sneered at her. "And who the hell are you? I know you didn't get sorted, so why are you down here? And what the hell is wrong with your hands?"

Hazel and Vi exchanged looks and the blonde grinned, throwing her arm around Vi's shoulders. At this point, things were deteriorating fast and a chance to assert herself properly before she became a complete pariah would probably be a good thing. "Violette here is my pet muggle. I brought her to school to take care of all those pesky physical labor things I'm too lazy to do myself. Technically a bit above a handmaiden, but the Savage Land doesn't have a real noble court system yet, so she's not quite a lady-in-waiting."

Silence descended on the common room. "You brought a muggle… to Hogwarts." Hazel nodded. "The reason my father is in jail thinks she can pollute the noble house of Slytherin by bringing a fucking muggle with her as some sort of house elf?" The boy rose to his feet, joined by two of his friends. "It's bad enough that Dumbledore makes us go to school with mudblood filth, but there'll be a muggle in Slytherin over my dead body. _Reducto_!"

"_Defodio_!"

"_Expulso_!"

Not knowing what the spells did or how to block or counter them, Hazel instinctively shifted into her diamond form. It turned out to be a good choice on her part; Vi opted to avoid the spells by dropping flat on the floor, allowing the jets of light to pass overhead and slam into Hazel. The spells hit her and forced her back a step, the world erupting in technicolor light as they passed through her diamond form and were scattered, enough making it clean through and out her back to cause the wall behind her to explode. Raising one glittering brow, she stared impassively at the gaping students. "Are you quite through?"

Before they could answer, Vi popped back to her feet and slammed her hands together, a wave of thunder picking all three attackers up and flinging them across the room. Another student leapt to his friends' aid, only to go flying when… "Jupiter Thunderbolt!" A bright purple bolt of lightning sent him flying into a couch full of students, sending them all to the floor in a tangle of limbs as the couch tipped over backwards. "God, I'm so glad you got sorted into the racist house, Hazel. If we were Gryffindors, we'd probably be sitting around having share time right now."

"Yes, well, you know I live to keep you happy." Looking back over her shoulder, Hazel let out a low whistle at the destruction the three spells had wrought where they landed. "You know, we might want to start working on a way to shape that energy of yours into a shield. If any of those spells had hit, I don't think there'd have been enough left to try a counter-curse on…"

Scoffing, Vi reached up and removed the three long metal pins holding her bun in place, letting her purple hair cascade down her back as she shook it out. "I train with Nori. After dodging lightning, do you really think these idiots can land a hit on me?"

Hazel pondered that for a moment before shrugging. "Touché. Still something worth checking out. Make a note of it." Vi just rolled her eyes at that. "Moving on… it's nice to meet those of you who didn't try just try to kill my bodyguard and I. My name is Hazel Frost, also known as the Girl-Who-Lived. I used to be Harry Potter. Since you seem to have a problem with that, let's stick with Hazel Frost." Gesturing to her glistening body and then over at Vi, Hazel smiled widely. "Now… I'm rich even before I've claimed any inheritance from the Potters, I'm famous in both worlds, and in the time it takes you to figure out how to hurt me, Vi and I can hurt a lot of you rather badly. So… does anyone want to make friends, or is this going to be a long seven years?"

Four hands went up.

Not a bad start, all things considered.

Slow clapping made Hazel whirl around, eyes widening as a tall, pale man with long black hair and black robes emerged from the tunnel. "In all my years here, I have seen many first night power plays in my common room but this… this is the best entertainment I've had in a long while. Now, Miss Frost and… companion. Come with me. The headmaster wishes to speak with you immediately. Prefects, please escort your more volatile housemates to see Madam Pomfrey. No, Melinda, this is not optional if you wish to retain your badge. I dare say you could use the exercise."

Oh ouch. When your professors started making jokes about your pudginess… Hazel shook her head. Melinda's problem. Not hers in the least. The headmaster, on the other hand, was her problem at the moment. Although it was bound to have happened eventually. After all, she'd shown up with the wrong gender, with the wrong hair color and the wrong surname, and a 'pet muggle' in tow. Of course the headmaster would want to talk to her.

Gesturing for Vi to precede her, she gave a little wave to her new housemates before following behind, shifting back to her flesh and blood form as she exited the portrait hole. The pair followed the professor - Severus Snape, their head of house and Potions professor according to one of her peers' minds - back up out of the dungeons to the main stairwell on the ground floor, at which point they began ascending the massive staircases that lead up to other parts of the school. After climbing two flights of stairs, Snape made a quick right and left the stairwell behind. Two hallways of identical doors later, they reached a stone gargoyle. Snape gave the gargoyle a sneer before spitting out a seemingly random phrase. "Chocolate frog."

The gargoyle twitched and then began to spin in a clockwise direction, slowly rising up into the air to reveal a spiraling staircase. Snape brushed past them and began climbing the stairs, Vi following him and Hazel bringing up the rear. After two and a half revolutions, the stairs ended in front of a wooden door that Snape opened and breezed through without even knocking. Shrugging, Vi gestured for Hazel to proceed her for once and the blonde did, looking around curiously as she entered a massive office full of all sorts of strange objects. Caught up in her sightseeing, she didn't notice the two men standing behind the large wooden desk until one of them shouted loudly, stabbing his wand at her. "_Finite incantatem_!"

Not quite sure what was going on, Hazel waited for some sort of spell to emerge from the wand of the shaggy looking dark haired wizard, blinking when nothing occurred. The man stared at her expectantly, as if something was supposed to be happening despite the failure of his spell, allowing Vi to slip in front of Hazel. Before he could attempt another spell, she raised her hands, palms pointed at the man. "Jupiter Thunderbolt!"

Brilliant purple bolts of electricity erupted from her hands, catching the man in the chest and flinging him up and into the wall behind him…

* * *

Moving forward as quietly as she could on all fours, Laurel slipped through the undergrowth as she tracked her target. Every so often, the wind would shift and a gust of her mother's scent would come from the northwest, letting her know that Emma was still trying to find the elusive, seemingly invisible home of the mutant they'd come to visit. Not that Laurel particularly cared; the longer it took her mother to accomplish her mission, the longer she could play in the woods. And if she caught her prey… well, her mother had promised her a puppy if she behaved on the trip to England. And she had. Except for the owl thing, which definitely wasn't her fault, seeing as how it'd attacked her and all…

Another three steps forward and Laurel found herself reaching the edge of a clearing, watching as the wolf she'd been tracking began to exhibit strange behavior. Circling the clearing slowly, it paused almost directly in front of her and sniffed deeply before continuing, ending its circuit and making its way out into the center. The wolf turned to face her head on and sat there for a moment, head cocked to one side as if it was thinking about something. Then, as Laurel watched in shock, the wolf suddenly shifted into a crouching girl in sparkling silver robes similar to the ones Hazel had bought at Diagon Alley, her pale blonde hair almost blue in the light of the full moon. "Hullo. Are you trying to become an animagus too?"

Laurel waited a few seconds but when she realized there was no possibility that the girl was directing that question at anyone other than her, she rose out of her crouch and made her way into the clearing. "What's an animagus?"

"What I am. It's a witch or wizard who can turn into an animal." Tilting her head to one side, the girl approached Laurel, circling her slowly before sniffing deeply at her neck. "You smell like some sort of cat. How can you be so far that you can change part way, but you don't know what an animagus is?"

Turning her head to eye the girl, Laurel's eyes widened when she noticed that the blonde had pointed ears. As far as she knew, normal witches didn't have pointed ears… but then again, she had a sample size of exactly one person. Was Hazel going to be the only normal eared girl at her school? "I'm not transforming into anything. I'm a mutant." The girl blinked at her owlishly. "You don't know what that is, do you?"

"Should I?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Turning away, Laurel beckoned for the girl to follow her. "C'mon. My mom can do the speech a lot better than I can." She didn't look back to see if she'd been obeyed; she could hear the soft swishes of the girl's robes against the grass and her gentle footfalls as she trailed along behind Laurel. "I'm Laurel Frost. What's your name?"

"Luna. Luna Lovegood."


	4. Chit Chat

Joe's Note: Just out of curiosity… you guys do know that speaking Cantonese… coming from Hong Kong… that means Mei-Xing and Su are from China, right? Not Japan? Just had an ignorant reviewer claiming I was only writing this to promote 'Japanese culture' and create 'anti-Hermione propaganda'. Oh, and on the subject of my other two OCs… you guys do know that Scotland and Ireland are located in Europe, right? And so names from there are 'European' names too. Ráichéal is a Gaelic name that's the equivalent of what it looks like, Rachel. Because she's from Ireland. And Catrìona is a Gàidhlig - Scottish Gaelic - name that's their version of Catherine. Cuz she's from Scotland. See how that works? It's like bitching that Fleur has a French name and Viktor uses a harsher, Slavic variation of Victor.

* * *

**_September 1, 2001_**

* * *

The gargoyle twitched and then began to spin in a clockwise direction, slowly rising up into the air to reveal a spiraling staircase. Snape brushed past them and began climbing the stairs, Vi following him and Hazel bringing up the rear. After two and a half revolutions, the stairs ended in front of a wooden door that Snape opened and breezed through without even knocking. Shrugging, Vi gestured for Hazel to proceed her for once and the blonde did, looking around curiously as she entered a massive office full of all sorts of strange objects. Caught up in her sightseeing, she didn't notice the two men standing behind the large wooden desk until one of them shouted loudly, stabbing his wand at her. "_Finite incantatem_!"

Not quite sure what was going on, Hazel waited for some sort of spell to emerge from the wand of the shaggy looking dark haired wizard, blinking when nothing occurred. The man stared at her expectantly, as if something was supposed to be happening despite the failure of his spell, allowing Vi to slip in front of Hazel. Before he could attempt another spell, she raised her hands, palms pointed at the man. "Jupiter Thunderbolt!"

Brilliant purple bolts of electricity erupted from her hands, catching the man in the chest and flinging him up and into the wall behind him. Moving surprisingly fast for a man of his age, Dumbledore brought his wand up and made a complex series of motions before slashing downward, an iron rod appearing and slamming into the floor to serve as a lightning rod, drawing the tendrils of electricity away from their intended target. Scowling, Vi broke off the attack and spread arms wide before slapping her palms together, releasing a booming wave of thunder that rattled the entire office and sent a concussive wave racing towards the headmaster and his companion. Again, Dumbledore's quick wandwork came to the rescue, creating a glowing blue dome that the wave raced up and over before slamming into the wall behind him. "Damn. Hazel, any ideas? I bet he can't stop diamond. Or…"

"Hmm. How about we stop attacking the man in charge of the school I have to attend for the next seven years before he decides to expel me? Sound like a workable plan?" Vi scowled, crossing her arms over her chest, and Hazel nodded towards the smoking, groaning man that Dumbledore was helping back to his feet. "And what happened to no felonies? That's what, four now?"

Sniffing, Vi turned to look over at the wall. "Assault is a misdemeanor, thank you very much."

Hazel shook her head at that, reaching over to tap one of Vi's gauntlets. "True, but I'm pretty sure lightning counts as a 'deadly weapon'. That makes it aggravated assault, which is a felony. And… what the heck is 'Jupiter Thunderbolt' all about? That's twice now."

"What? I thought since we were going all anime and shouting our attacks, I'd go with a classic." Turning to face Hazel, Vi extended her left arm out away from her body even as she curled the right up so her forearm ran parallel to her torso. "Soldier of thunder and courage, Sailor Jupiter! In the name of Jupiter, I will punish you!"

Sighing, Hazel ducked her head. "When we get home, I am definitely taking away your television time. And your Laserdiscs." Looking back at her head of house, she frowned at finding the man smirking and leaning against the wall. "Erm, not to tell you how to do your job or anything, but shouldn't you be trying to restrain us or something? We are attacking your employer and a coworker, after all."

"Yeah, Snivellus, shouldn't you be trying to rein your little snakes in? After all, you are Dumbledore's man, right? That's why you didn't go to Azkaban with the rest of the Death Eater scum…"

Hazel raised a brow at the nickname. Evidently some of the school's adult residents had less than fond feelings for each other. She filed it away for later; being able to play staff members off each other could prove useful. As for her head of house being a Death Eater, that was something else that would require further research but could wait till a later date. Snape just sneered at the comment. "You are an auror, Black, albeit an inactive one. Shouldn't you be able to defend yourself again an untrained, muggle-raised first year and her pet muggle?"

"Sirius, Severus, enough." Flicking his wand, a chair appeared and Dumbledore lowered the man who had to be 'Sirius Black' by simple logic into it. Turning to Hazel and Vi, he eyed them for a moment before gesturing to the two chairs in front of his desk. "Miss… Frost? Is that what you prefer these days? And Miss Nowak. I do believe we need to have a talk. Tea?"

Nodding, Hazel lowered herself into a chair in front of the headmaster's desk, Vi for once taking her own seat instead of perching on the arm of Hazel's or standing behind her. "Two sugars, please." After being served, Hazel leaned back in her chair and sipped at it, eyes flicking back and forth as she waited for one of the three adults in the room to strike up a conversation. Beside her, Vi's leg bounced impatiently as she juggled three cookies to amuse herself, but she too remained silent. They were well trained by Emma. Even if you were the one with questions, never put yourself in the position of weakness by being the first to ask for something. Make them come to you.

Dumbledore finally decided to make the first move, setting his cup down as he met Hazel's eyes. "I suppose we might as well start with the most obvious topic and one that I am admittedly most curious about. How is it that you came to be as you are? Postal owls see you as Harry Potter, the Sorting Hat didn't refute that claim… and yet you are most certainly not the child I remember seeing when I cast the Fidelius for Lily and James all those years ago."

"I don't suppose you know what the words 'genetic manipulation' mean, do you?" The headmaster offered her a blank look and a shake of his head. "Genetics? Genes? DNA?" The blank look persisted and Hazel sighed. How did one go about explaining the color red to a blind person or the sound of a bird chirping to the deaf? The wizarding world was so backwards when it came to modern science that she struggled to settle on a metaphor that Dumbledore might properly understand. Finally she gave up. "I'm not sure about magically, since my letters still go to Harry Potter, but when it comes to my body… James Potter isn't my father."

Sirius Black shot upright, slamming his hands down on the headmaster's desk as his face screwed up in a fierce scowl. "That's a load of shit! Lily never would have cheated on James. They loved each other, and…"

"_Silencio_." Hazel looked back over her shoulder at her head of house, giving Snape a grateful smile as Black's mouth continued to move but nothing emerged. "Now, Black, perhaps we can let young Miss Frost tell her story so this might be resolved and my students sent to join their peers? I also need to pay a visit Madam Pomfrey to see what damage Miss Frost and her friend did to some students who decided to try and attack them."

Still scowling, Black dropped back into his chair and pointed his wand at his own throat, obviously trying to undo the spell Snape had cast on him. Not that Hazel cared about his predicament; the longer he was silenced, the longer it'd be before he could interrupt her again. "Thank you, Professor Snape. And for the record, more damage than they did to Vi or me. Now, as I was saying, James Potter isn't my father. The woman who raised me… my new mother… paid a muggle scientist to change who I was. He used a new treatment of his to replace every physical bit of James Potter in me. It turned me from the son of James and Lily Potter, to the daughter of Lily Potter and Emma Frost. Evidently, it didn't change my magic, but we didn't know that until the owls started showing up."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers under his chin as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "I see. Might this new mother of yours be a rather tall blonde woman with a fondness for the color white?" Hazel nodded slowly; had she finally found the one person in the wizarding world who knew who Emma Frost was? "Are you aware that the woman you call mother kidnapped you from the remains of your parents' house ten years ago next month, assaulting the man who would have been your guardian had she not taken you?" …evidently not. Dumbledore gestured to Black. "Professor Black here was a good friend of your father's and was named your godfather when you were born. He was ready to take you in and raise you as your parents desired, only to have you taken from him by a stranger."

"I see." Looking over at Black, Hazel arched a brow. "Considering a single 'muggle' was able to beat him and take me out from under his nose, maybe I was safer in someone else's care all these years?"

A harsh bark of laughter escaped Snape as Black bristled, but quelling looks from the headmaster kept either man from going any further. "Yes, and that is another matter I've been most curious about in the years since your disappearance. How exactly did your mother manage to overpower Professor Black and then blow a hole in the wall of the Potters' house if she is in fact a muggle?"

Even if Vi hadn't electrocuted Black in front of the headmaster and mentioned Hazel's abilities, the cat would have been well and truly out of the bag when word of the encounter in the Slytherin common room trickled back to the headmaster. There was no use hiding now. "There is a group of humans out there that it seems the wizarding world has yet to meet… not that we knew anything about you before I got my Hogwarts letter, to be fair. Although mutants come from everywhere… I wouldn't be surprised to find out there are witches and wizards with strange talents that you write off as special magic and turn out to be mutant magicians like me. Anyways, we basically have an extra gene that gives us some sort of extra power. Depending on how the gene forms, the power can be, well, almost anything. One of my sister's friends is basically part-squirrel. She has really big front teeth, a bushy tail, can talk to squirrels…"

"I see." Dumbledore gestured to Vi. "Or, in young Miss Nowak's case, command over elemental forces?"

Hazel nodded, glancing over at her companion for a moment before returning her attention to the headmaster. "Violette's an electrokine. Her body creates large amounts of electricity that she can use a few different ways. My mother and I, on the other hand, are part of a special group even among mutants. We have two separate powers: a primary mutation and a secondary mutation. The same, since she had me implanted with an exact copy of her X-gene. Our secondary power is being able to turn into living diamond, and our main power…"

Reaching out with her mind, Hazel decided to tackle Black rather than the headmaster for her little demonstration, diving into his thoughts. It didn't take her long to find a few pieces of information that she thought would easily establish her bona fides. "You started crushing on my mother a few weeks before James told you he was interested in her, but couldn't do anything without dumping your current girlfriend and you didn't want to do that because you were pretty sure Lily wouldn't date you. By the time you got your act together, James was already after her and you didn't want to go against the man you considered a brother. It's part of why you hate Professor Snape so much: you resented them for the closeness they had from growing up together and didn't think he deserved the attention she gave him. You… tried to feed him to a werewolf at one point? Good God. I'm not sure that just one bodyguard is going to be enough if I stay here. And… you had steak and kidney pie for dinner last night, and the redheaded waitress who looks like Lily Potter for dessert. Still crushing after all these years? That can't be healthy, you know."

"Legilimency."

"Telepathy. Among mutants, it's a common enough power. There are at least… eleven others with it living in the Savage Land right now? I think?" Hazel frowned, counting on her fingers. "Mother, Uncle Charles, Jean, Betsy, Quentin, Jason, Regan, Gene, Alice, Jono… I know I'm forgetting someone… oh, my mother's ex-wife Astrid. Eleven. And that's just off the top of my head, mind you; I don't know everyone in the Savage Land and what they can do."

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, Hazel. What you practice is a very rare type of mental magic known as legilimency. It allows a properly trained user to delve into another person's mind and glimpse their thoughts, emotions, and memories. Voldemort is a master legilimens, and both Professor Snape and I are highly skilled as well. There is an opposing skill known as occlumency, dedicated to keeping people out of your mind. I assume, given the line of conversation, that you are implying these abilities are how your… mother… disabled Professor Black?" Hazel nodded and Dumbledore furrowed his brow, leaning forward so he could meet Hazel's eyes. "I have never heard of a natural legilimens, though, much less a muggle capable of learning and using it. And you say eleven people can do this? You must be mistaken…"

Suddenly, Hazel felt a pressure against the inside of her skull and memories of her past began to rise to the forefront of her mind unbidden. The Savage Land, Emma, Tempest, Laurel, the quintuplets, holding a man in place with a brute force application of her newly manifested powers, the smell of flesh cooking as Violette electrocuted him to death…

Gasping as she realized what was going on, Hazel threw her head back and shifted into her diamond form, hoping it would cut off whatever bizarre mental attack Dumbledore was using on her. It did and as her thoughts settled down, her mind battered but her shields intact, she glared at the headmaster. "So that was legilimency, I assume? That's definitely not the same thing as what the others and I can do. And since you can get through my shields with your power… I wonder how mutant telepathy and magical occlumency match up?" Shifting back into her flesh and blood form, she gathered as much power as she could and slammed her way into the man's mind.

Hazel knew she didn't have much time; anything that broke her concentration would force her out and there were three adult wizards with wands in the room with her. So she charged through his mind with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, looking for anything of interest. And when she found it, she snapped back into her own mind of her own volition, shifting back into her diamond form just in time for a red spell to hit her in the face, passing through her skull and shooting off at an odd angle as it erupted from the back of her head. "I've wondered ever since I started reading about you why there's no Missus Dumbledore or children. Gellert Grindelwald. No wonder it took you what, six years of war to finally get out of this castle and head over to Germany to hunt him down?"

"Oh? Oh! Huh." Vi cast a critical eye over Dumbledore before nudging Hazel and smirking. "That explains the bright purple robes with stars, huh? He's like Elton John, just with a wand."

"Nah, Elton John has cooler glasses." Staring at the white-faced Dumbledore, Hazel smirked as she tapped the tips of her fingers together. She'd been wondering how to grab the power necessary to push for her outlandish demands. Now she had it. This man had all sorts of secrets locked up inside his head, and now he knew she had the power to slip in and grab them at will. Granted he could do the same to her, but… well, she was an eleven-year old girl. There was hardly anything exciting floating around her head. "Now that I've proven my point about having a power other than legilimency… you do believe me, don't you?" Dumbledore nodded slowly. "To get to some of the things I saw on the surface of your mind… I will not be going to live with these 'Dursley' people of yours, even if one of them is my aunt. You know and now I do that they hate magic; why would you ever send a child there, supposed blood wards or not? Besides, I have a family of my own that I'm happy with in the Savage Land."

Making a hooking motion with his wand, Dumbledore floated a globe up off its stand and hovered it over to them. "Ah yes, there's that name again. The 'Savage Land'. The tracking charm I put on your Hogwarts letter didn't start responding until somewhere in Argentina, but I would expect someone from South America to perhaps speak with a Spanish or Portuguese accent. So where have you been living all these years?"

Hazel turned the globe over and over in her hands before tossing it back across the desk at Dumbledore. "Now that would be telling. It's a secret. Something the location of the Potters' house was supposed to be. Doesn't seem to have worked out too well for them, so forgive me if I'm a little nervous about you knowing the secret location of my house. Now, what else? Ah yes. You will not be trying to turn me back into a boy so England can have a Boy-Who-Lived again. I'm quite happy the way I am. And you will not be sending Violette home unless you want me to go back to the Savage Land with her. She came with me for a reason. And finally no, I don't know a store around here where you can get good toe socks. I'm not from England, remember?"

Attempting to regain his composure and control of the situation, Dumbledore fixed a kind, grandfatherly smile on his face. "I'm afraid that's simply not acceptable, Hazel. Without magic, it's just not legally possible for me to enroll her as a student, even if she does has abilities beyond those of a normal muggle. And no other student has a servant with them, human or otherwise. It's simply not allowed and I can't bend the rule for you without…"

Hazel's chuckle cut Dumbledore off and she reached up to play with her hair, sweeping it back to reveal the lightning bolt scar that marred her forehead. Before coming to England, she'd hated it. Now she loved the power and prestige it brought her. "Of course you can. I'm Harry Potter. Or close enough. My mother is concerned about my safety and sent someone to watch me. Vi took out one of your professors on her own. Now imagine if one of my mother's enemies came for me… a well-trained adult mutant, with full control of their powers. Or more than one, for that matter. No. I won't risk it and neither will she. If my mother wanting to make sure I'm safe is that much of a problem, though? My new friends and I were talking on the train. I thought all of Europe or even all the world came here, since my letter made it all the way to Antarctica. Catrìona was very quick to tell me about this book she'd read, _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_, and some of the other schools in the area." And now for the coup de grâce… "J'ai entendu qu'il ya une belle école en France, à côté de Marseille." And just in case that wasn't enough, Hazel crossed her fingers and prayed she got her pronunciation correct as she regurgitated the words she'd scooped out of Ráichéal's mind while they were on the train… "Agus tá Éire taibhseach san an earrach. B'fhéidir go an Acadamh Baile Átha an Rí a mhúineadh dom má dhiúltaíonn do Hogwarts."

"…that is to say, the rule cannot be bent without the consent of the Board of Governors, who I dare say would be horrified at the idea of the Bo… Girl-Who-Lived emigrating to France to receive a magical education at Beauxbatons. Or the Athenry Academy." Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief, Hazel's powers picking up a rather patronizing sense of superior amusement radiating off him. "The Athenry Academy. Perish the thought. Your liver would probably fail before graduation day and your real parents would rise from their graves to haunt me for it." Pulling out a piece of parchment and a truly gaudy peacock tail feather quill, Dumbledore jotted something down before peering over the top of his glasses at Hazel. "But, in order to properly convince the Board that this is a good idea, I dare say I'll have to be able to convey to them the threat that these… 'mutants', did you say? These mutants pose to wizardkind."

Nodding, Hazel snapped her fingers and waited for Vi to hand her the white leather satchel she'd bought in Diagon Alley. "Of course. I actually brought you some pictures from home that might be able to help my case." Digging through her bag, she found the padded mailer full of photos and pulled it out. Her mother had carefully selected the pictures for just this purpose, ensuring that the more useless mutants were ignored or glossed over while the cream of the crop as far as destructive capabilities were featured prominently. An explanation for each picture had been drilled into Hazel until she could quote her mother verbatim… or paraphrase things well enough in a few cases. Sticking her hand inside, she withdrew the first photo, glimpsed at it, and grinned. "Do you know what a Tyrannosaurus Rex is, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore nodded, reaching forward to take the picture from her. "A giant prehistoric lizard, correct? The muggles have been digging up skeletons of them for most of my lifetime, but they…" His eyes went wide and Black rose from his seat, leaning over the back of the headmaster's chair to get a glimpse. "…are not as extinct as muggles think they are? How did you..?"

"There's a mutant named Wanda Lehnsherr; she's the eldest daughter - well, by an hour or so - of one of my mother's co-rulers in the Savage Land. She can change the chance of something happening. In this case, she changed the chance of dinosaurs appearing out of midair from zero percent to a hundred percent. And then there were dinosaurs." Pulling out the rest of the pictures, Hazel flicked through them before finding the one she was looking for, tossing a picture of a pair of girls onto the desk. Or rather a pair of girls and a blurry green streak, which was only noticeable if one knew to look. "The girl in the red is Wanda. The green-haired girl who looks almost exactly like her is her fraternal triplet and slightly younger sister Lorna. And in the back is their brother Pietro."

Picking the picture up, Black squinted and turned the photo to and fro. "I don't see anything. Did he get eaten by one of his sister's dinosaurs or something? Did she turn him into a dinosaur?"

Hazel shook her head, leaning in and plucking the photo from the hands of her supposed godfather's - and that was definitely something she'd have to deal with at some point. Putting it back down on the desk, she slowly ran her fingertip along the streak to bring the men's attention to it. "Right there. That's Pietro. He's a chronokinetic. He can slow down time. It makes it look like he's moving really fast, even though he's just walking at the same speed you or I would move. He can even walk on water when he's using his powers." Smirking, Hazel made a stabbing motion. "He could enter the school, kill the student body, and be gone before anyone raised the alarm. Wanda… well, ever wonder what the odds of this school collapsing around your ears are? She could tell you… and then change them."

Tapping the green-haired girl with one finger, Dumbledore's brow rose. "And this… Lorna? As long as you're attempting to intimidate and threaten us?"

"Threaten you? Me? I'm not doing anything of the sort, Headmaster. I'm just letting you know what some of the mutants I know and live with are capable of. It's not my fault if it's pretty scary… is it?" Grinning, Hazel flipped through her pictures until she found a picture of Lorna standing in front of a peculiar apparatus made of metal girders and what looked like a cannon ball. "As for Lorna, she's a magnopath. She controls magnetic fields with her mind. Her control isn't up there with her father's; I've seen him pull the iron out of the blood of someone who attacked him. But she has more brute force power. The metal device she's standing with here is the centerpiece of the Savage Land defense system. It's a railgun that can fire solid nickel balls about six inches across at a couple times the speed of sound. Her last test fire? The flier they sent after it says the ball hit the water over two hundred miles away. It hit a whale by accident. The whale disappeared. It didn't die… there weren't chunks of meat… it turned into a fine red mist. And before you ask, yes, fliers. Some mutants can fly. Uncle Erik can, Lorna can, Wanda can, Vi here is learning…"

"Jean can fly…"

"What can't Jean do? She's worse than Wanda." Hazel scowled at the mention of her… not quite a rival. To be rivals, Jean would actually have to recognize Hazel existed. With over a decade between them in age, Jean ran in completely different circles, but that didn't stop stories of the psionic wonder girl from trickling down and leaving the blonde as the second-best next generation psionic. Although once she was done at Hogwarts and had full control of her magical powers… hah. Then everyone would see who the truly superior psi was. And… "Jean can bite my rich white rump."

Not really in the mood to keep talking, Hazel settled for tossing more pictures onto the desk. Jean floating in midair, manifesting that peculiar bird shaped aura of fire around herself. Vi and Ashida Noriko exchanging bolts of purple and blue lightning as they sparred. A picture of a rather irritable looking Tempest helping a jubilant Laurel drag the corpse of a panther back to civilization. Several quick shots of her sister's face, showing off her healing powers as deep scratches turned into faint pink lines and then disappeared. Laurel's dad Jimmy shooting at Hazel herself with a machine gun, the bullets bouncing off her diamond form. Jean's boyfriend Scott using his optic beams on behalf of the Corps of Engineers, and a follow up shot of the devastation his blasts had caused.

Each picture made the professors' eyes grow wider and when they were done, Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and twisted the quill in his hand idly as he stared off into space. "May I keep these? At least until after the board meeting?" Hazel nodded. "Thank you. Now, obviously the matter of your change and your… mother… is going to require further investigation and discussion. But I see no reason to keep you separate from the students for now. I do ask you to keep your mind to yourself, though. And knowledge of your pow…"

"The students know. Violette and I told a few people on the train, not to mention having to defend ourselves from our housemates earlier."

"…I see. Very well. I'll begin asking the castle to expand the Slytherin first year girls' dorm now to include room for a sixth bed. Professor Snape, please see Hazel and Miss Nowak back to their common room and then summon a house elf to move a bed out of storage for Miss Nowak." Gathering up the pictures, Dumbledore began to scribble rapidly on the parchment in front of him, the dismissal clear.

Hazel looked over at Vi and motioned for the girl to stand, wanting to get in one last parting shot before following suit. "I'm sure you'll want to talk to us again soon. I'll be looking forward to it. Maybe we can find the time to discuss a certain Hufflepuff and his thirty pieces of silver, Headmaster Caiaphas?" Dumbledore flinched at the reference and Hazel smirked. Evidently her love of theater and musical theater did have a practical use. She made a mental note to write to her mother and gloat about being able to use something she learned at _Jesus Christ Superstar_ in a conversation…

Rising from her seat, Hazel followed Snape as he swept towards the door. Just before they reached it, the door slammed open and Professor McGonagall stalked in, followed by a rather smug looking Hermione and a decidedly nervous quartet of girls: Mei-Xing, Ráichéal, Catrìona, and Su. Hazel arched a brow and Ráichéal mouthed the words 'pity fund', making the blonde wince. Then again, with Mei-Xing's public comment at the sorting, she should have expected the professors to get involved. "Ah, so you two are already here. That'll make this much easier. Headmaster…"

Looking up from his work, Dumbledore gave a sharp shake of his head. "Not tonight, Minerva."

"Albus, these girls…"

"Not tonight, Minerva." The second time around was sharper, Dumbledore looking up from his writing and narrowing his eyes at the Scottish woman. "Unless whatever you've brought to me will result in serious injury or death before morning?" After gaping for a moment, McGonagall closed her mouth and shook her head. "Then I shall deal with it in the morning. Right now, there are more pressing matters for me to attend to. Have a good evening."

McGonagall fixed her with a glare, to which Hazel responded with an angelic smile, before stalking back down the stairs, herding the other girls in front of her. Probably thought it was all her doing. Slytherins were the 'evil' house, after all. Shaking her head in disgust, she waited until Snape passed through the door before following him out of the headmaster's office, down the stairs and then back out into the halls as they backtracked their way towards the main stairways. Sliding her wand out of her robes, Hazel brought it up and focused, recalling the incantation and wand movement Ráichéal had used on the train. "_Mutare coloris_." Her scalp tingled and she grabbed a strand of hair, pulling it forward to examine. Red. Perfect. "Professor Snape?" The sallow man let out a grunt, turning right and leading them down the stairs. "What do you think Professor Black would do if I came to class like this?"

Looking back at her, Snape stumbled before coming to an abrupt stop. "Given his distaste for all things Slytherin? You'd probably lose every point the house has for daring to defile his memories of your mother. Now please return your appearance to normal. I find looking at you like that… disquieting."

"Aww, what's the matter, Sev? I thought you hated me with blonde hair? You looked like you were sucking on a lemon the entire summer after Tuney talked me into dying my hair..." Scowl growing, Snape waved his wand and a breeze ruffled Hazel's hair, blowing a blonde strand into her eyes. So magic could be done without yelling, as Vi had so amusingly put it, like someone out of a Japanese cartoon? Fascinating. She'd have to put silent casting on her growing list of things to investigate. "Just a little a little food for thought, Sev. The headmaster's mind has already betrayed you. I know you have the same power as him. Just remember: I may be an open book to you, but you're an open book to me too. And I'm sure your mind is a lot more interesting than mine."

Snape turned away, resuming his trek down the stairs and leaving the girls scrambling to keep up. "Believe me, Miss Frost, I have no interest in seeing what lies inside the mind of a preteen girl, even one as mature as yourself. So if you would kindly keep out of mine, I'll refrain from assigning you detentions dissecting frogs from now until you graduate."

When they reached the ground floor again, Snape led them down into the dungeons and eventually back to the portraitless portrait hole protecting the Slytherin common room. "Fiat ater." Once more, the stones parted to grant them access to the common room and the dorms beyond that. "This is where I leave you. I will send a house elf to…"

"Can Hazel's bed be made bigger? Instead of adding a separate one for me?" Snape glanced over at Hazel before fixing Vi with a curious look. "What? We've shared a bed before. And from what I read in _Hogwarts: A History_…"

"Wait a minute, you actually read one of my books?"

"…shut up, I was bored. You left me at the hotel with your sisters while you went shopping and there's only so much Gordon Ramsay one girl can stomach. Even if I did learn a few new phrases. Hey, I wonder if Catrìona's related to him… she's a Scottish muggleborn with the last name Ramsay, after all. Anyways… I read up on the houses and what our new housemates are like. And since it's not like I can really check my bed and stuff for pranks and hexes and stuff…" Vi shrugged defensively and stepped closer to Hazel. "I can protect Hazel from other mutants, but what if the other girls in our dorm… I don't know, curse my sheets or my pillow or something? I'll need Hazel to protect me from magic. It'll be easier to do that if she's only protecting one bed and one trunk."

Snape turned his attention to Hazel and the blonde shrugged. The idea hadn't occurred to her but Vi's reasoning seemed sound enough, shock of shocks, and she had nothing against the idea. "We already share a trunk, Professor. Mother bought us a four-compartment contraption; it has two separate locks with two separate keys. My key opens the left lock and lets me into the first and second compartments, while Vi can only use the right lock and the remaining two. So we each have twice as much as should fit into a trunk its size, all stuffed down into that little space." She continued pondering the pros and cons - including security, privacy, and potential public perception of their arrangement - before giving a purely mental shrug. The only ones who would know would be Snape, the elves, and her roommates. The latter could be kept quiet and a grown man certainly wasn't going to gossip about it. When they were older and likely to start dating, the situation could be reevaluated, but for now… "Why not?"

Nodding, Snape gestured to the waiting passage. "Very well. I will tell the house elves to take advantage of the empty space to grow one of the existing beds from twin to king size. That should be enough room without being excessive; about thirty centimeters slimmer than two separate twins." Huh? Wasn't a king seventy-eight inches wide and a twin thirty-nine? Making it exactly twice as wide? Wait. The bed at the hotel had been a 'super king' but the same size as her bed at home. Obviously the names weren't the same here. Hazel blinked. She was obsessing over beds… why exactly? "I would remain in the common room with your peers for at least half an hour before heading to your room. If there are any difficulties regarding possession of the large bed, call out the name 'Tinky' and she will take a message from you to wherever I am at the moment. Good night, Miss Frost. Miss Nowak."

Hazel watched as Snape turned and began backtracking along the hallway that led to the Entrance Hall before peering into the dark tunnel once more. "Well… what do you say? Take another crack at this?"

"The Slytherin common room. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious." Hazel groaned and Vi just grinned cheekily in response before taking the lead once more. Walking through the tunnel, they emerged into the common room and Vi spread her arms wide. "We're back! Did you miss us?"

* * *

Rubbing her temples, Emma looked down at her smirking daughter and narrowed her eyes. _'You think this is funny?'_ Laurel's smirk became a full-fledge grin as she nodded. _'No hunting for two weeks after we get home.'_ The girl's eyes went wide and then it was Emma's turn to smirk. _'Maybe you'll remember that next time you feel the urge to disrespect your mother. And before you think of playing us off each other, tell James that if he takes you out while you're grounded, I'll make him think he's your twin sister. I'm sure the quintuplets would love to braid his hair.'_

"So, one more time… my Luna isn't one of these 'mutants' I keep reading about in the _Times_?" Emma nodded and waited as the wild-haired Xenophilius Lovegood looked from her to his daughter and back several times. "Well that's a relief. I think. I'm not sure how raising a mutant is different from raising a normal witch, but I'm sure it has to be different. How would you discipline your daughter when she could turn into a giant green beast and eat you, like that American bloke the army's been chasing around the world?"

Emma winced; ah yes, the inestimable Bruce Banner. Doing wonders for mutant public relations everywhere he went by causing millions in property damage and indulging in cannibalism. "Actually, the Hulk isn't a mutant. He's an American military experiment gone horribly awry. But yes, you're quite right. One of my youngest threw a ball of fire at me the other day when I told her to go clean her room."

"Sweet Merlin. Now I'm very glad Luna's not one. The worst I ever had to deal with was her turning her clothes colors with accidental magic. But that was probably for the best; I'd rather see her change a sweater's color than leave it hanging in the back of her wardrobe for the moths to get." Xenophilius patted his daughter's head a few times before pausing. "So if she's not a mutant, why are we talking about her?"

Groaning, Emma covered her face with her hands. "I want to take her with me. She can tell by my daughter's scent that she's a feral mutant, and my assistant and I smell 'off' to her too. I want to see if she reacts to all mutants like that and, if she does, see if we can train her to help sniff out mutants in the, err, muggle population. It'd only be for a year; I'll make sure she gets a world class education and is ready to join my daughter at Hogwarts next year."

Xenophilius rubbed his chin, staring at her speculatively. "Well… if you have a girl at Hogwarts, you must know how to raise a witch right, even if you are a muggle. And Luna has been getting awful restless with me gone all day working on _The Quibbler_ and her mother… gone. Well, what do you think, Moonbeam? Want to go with this woman to… err, where are you going?"

"Antarctica to start, then America, then probably all over Europe and Asia."

"Yeah, those places. Sound like fun?" Luna bit her lower lip for a moment before nodding and Xenophilius clapped. "Wonderful. Now, if you want to follow us back to the house, Luna can pack up a few things… maybe one of my more normal looking wizard cameras, so she can send pictures of anything interesting back for _The Quibbler_. Say, Luna, what do you think of…"

Turning, Xenophilius began walking up the path towards the massive rook shaped house in the distance, Luna shifting smoothly into a wolf and trotting at his side. The man continued to chatter on, Luna responding with yips and barks that he actually appeared to understand. Sighing, Emma beckoned for Laurel to follow her as she marched back towards where they'd left the car.

At least Rahne would be getting a playmate out of this little detour of hers…


	5. Settling In

Joe's Note: After some upgrades, rearranging, and rewriting for the first chapters, I'm back with new material. We'll get to see a few more familiar faces, as well as watching as Hazel makes new friends and spends a bit more time with those she made on the train. Daphne had one mention in the books, Tracey is from the _Harry Potter & Me_ special's shot of the class lists, and the Carrow twins are from the HBP movie, appearing most notably in the Slug Club but also showing up here and there in crowd shots. Obviously all four are expanded for my story's sake, since none have any really depth to them.

* * *

**_September 1, 2001_**

* * *

Sitting in the offices of the Auror Corps' Muggle Interaction branch, Nymphadora Tonks scratched her nose with the end of her quill as she reread the case file in front of her. While the suspect was a muggle, he was offing women with what they suspected was an illegally charmed muggle artifact and so both MI5.625 and the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office were contributing personnel to help muggle law enforcement catch the killer. While being a trainee meant that her part in the case was limited to analyzing the files as a purely theoretical exercise, Tonks was convinced that she could find something the others were missing and when she did find it, she'd find their man and…

"Tonks! Floo for you!"

"Busy. Tell 'em I'm dead."

There was a snort from the other side of the cubicle wall. "Well, if you want me telling Dumbledore you're too dead to help him…"

Dropping the folder and her quill, Tonks straightened up. "Dumbledore? What?" What did he want with her? Had some poor girl finally sat on that toilet she'd hexed last year in an effort to get back at that obnoxious Slytherin girl for insulting her mother? Or… wait. Why was she wasting time asking herself? Sooner she got off her butt and got out to Hogwarts, the sooner she'd find out.

Tonks hopped up out of her chair, hair cycling through a variety of colors as she slipped the holster for her gun on, finally settling down into long mane of black that - while reminding people far too much of her dear Aunt Bellatrix - was the most professional look she could manage. Her Walther P99 went into the holster - her trainer had told them that they were to carry them at all times while on duty for disguise purposes, just in case they were called in to a scene with muggle police - and then she slipped on the long black coat that all MI5.625 agents and trainees wore. After a quick check in the mirror hanging in her cubicle to ensure she didn't have any ink stains on her face or anything, she was off and running towards the floo. Skidding to a stop in front of the green flames, she ducked her head and dove into the fireplace. "Hogwarts; Dumbledore's Office!"

The world went swirling and twisting past as she traveled from London to Scotland in a matter of seconds, eventually arriving at her destination. Stumbling a bit as she emerged from the floo, Tonks jumped as a sharp crack echoed through the room, wand jumping to her hand as she whirled in a circle, trying to find the source of the noise. Behind her, someone sighed loudly. "Dora, what have they told you about traveling through the floo while armed?"

"Err…" Turning to face her cousin sheepishly, Tonks rubbed the back of her neck. "Always check to make sure the safety charm is engaged because bullets and magical fire don't mix for some reason?" Shrugging her coat off, she checked it and found a neat hole under her left arm where the holstered handgun had put a bullet through the black fabric. "Which, evidently, I forgot to do?" Drawing her wand, she made a quick 'X' and murmured a spell she'd used back in school to keep her uniforms in one piece, pulling the fabric back together with magic and making the hole disappear. "Now, if it's about an exploding toilet, I had nothing to do with it. If it's not… ello, Headmaster. Sirius. Wotcher?"

Smiling, Dumbledore gestured to a seat that Tonks had spent a great deal of time in during her seven years at Hogwarts. "Good evening, Nymphadora. Please, be seated. Lemon drop?" Scrunching up her nose in disgust, both at the candy and the use of her real name, Tonks dropped into the indicated seat. "Very well. On to the matter at hand, I suppose. I had an… encounter… with a muggle-raised student this evening that left me with many questions. I thought to contact someone from MI5.625, and Sirius recommended you. And so here we are."

Tonks wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Had a muggle-raised student brought something into the castle the headmaster needed identified? Some piece of technology, or perhaps narcotics or a weapon? Or perhaps they'd raised questions about the classes compared to muggle secondary schools and the headmaster needed more information so he could formulate a response? "Well, it gets me out of sitting in my box and staring at files so… ask away, headmaster."

"What can you tell me about Emma Frost?"

* * *

Hazel watched as Snape turned and began backtracking along the hallway that led to the Entrance Hall before peering into the dark tunnel once more. "Well… what do you say? Take another crack at this?"

"The Slytherin common room. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious." Hazel groaned and Vi just grinned cheekily in response before taking the lead once more. Walking through the tunnel, they emerged into the common room and Vi spread her arms wide. "We're back! Did you miss us?"

That earned Vi baleful glares from most of the older students and Hazel hooked an arm through her attendant's and guided her over to where a blonde, a redhead, and a pair of dark-haired twins were sitting together on a pair of couches. "Sorry we didn't get to talk earlier, but we're back now. I'm Hazel Frost and this is Violette Nowak."

Daphne pointed to a nearby armchair, one of the dark-haired girls flicking her wand and slowly hovering it over to join them. Hazel seated herself, crossing one leg over the other and Vi hopped up onto the arm of the chair, throwing one arm along the back of the chair for stability. "Tonight's been weird. I haven't had to introduce myself to anyone in forever. Most of us already know each other."

"And I don't. Know you, that is." Well, technically she did, but Hazel wasn't going to admit to her mental rummaging at this point, and so as far as these girls knew, they were strangers to her. "Humor me?"

Sighing, Daphne rolled her eyes. "Fine. My name's Daphne Greengrass and I'm from the lovely little town of Woodbridge. Or it used to be lovely according to my grandparents. Too many muggles now. Although they wouldn't be so bad if they were normal and just went about their lives. Ever since the aurors and Death Eaters battled it out in the forest nearby something like twenty years ago, though, these conspiracy loonies keep showing up. They're so insane, they go right through the muggle-repellers because… well, probably because they're insane. I don't pretend to understand how an insane muggle mind works. We're thinking of opening an inn so we can take advantage of them, though. If we can't hex them, we might as well take their money and use it to fill the family vault." Rant trailing off, Daphne was still for a moment before tossing out one last tidbit. "Oh, and I have a half-sister named Astoria who'll start when we're third years."

Hazel made a mental note to share that tidbit about wizards being responsible for the Rendlesham Forest Incident with Lorna when next she wrote home. Maybe then Uncle Erik would cross at least that spot off her 'vacation' rotation. Granted that still left Dalnegorsk, Tunguska, Roswell, Bermuda… but Lorna genuinely liked Russia for some odd reason and Bermuda was… well, Bermuda. Who wouldn't like Bermuda? Turning, she pointed at Tracey. "One down, three to go. Your turn."

"I'm Tracey Davis and I'm from Hampstead. I'm technically a half-blood…"

"But I love you anyways."

"…thanks, Daph. My father's a pureblood, my mother's a muggleborn… a bit like your parents… and the only reason the lot of us aren't disinherited is because Grandpa Byron would rather have a 'filthy mudblood' and a 'disgusting half-blood' in the family tree than let his money pass to Lucius Malfoy when he dies." Tracey pointed across the room to where Draco and his flunkies were sitting. "Which I suppose means I'm somehow related to him. Draco Malfoy. And… ugh. I just realized that means that if she gets her way, I'll be related to Pansy too some day. Gross."

That set the twins to giggling and Hazel realized they were true blanks to her; they weren't first years and so she hadn't examined them during the Opening Feast, too busy trying to get a handle on her own peers. "Hmm. I don't even know your names, since you weren't sorted tonight." Suddenly, Hazel had an idea for a bit of fun. "Well, I don't know them yet. But I have a special power that tells me the name of anyone I meet."

The twin on the left just snorted at that. "Yeah, and its name is Professor Snape. He probably…"

"…told you about us on the way to the headmaster's office after watching us say we were on your side. For some reason…"

"…he really doesn't like us. Could be because our father, aunt, and uncle were all Death Eaters with him and we know some dirty secrets about him…"

"…or it could be because we're horrible at animate-to-inanimate transfiguration and McGonagall always docks lots of points when our animals explode. But that's not our fault."

"Nope."

"And we certainly don't know why the nearby Gryffindors' animals explode when she isn't looking."

"Certainly not."

Gahh. Hazel turned her head back and forth to follow the conversation, feeling like a spectator at Wimbledon. This was like dealing with the quintuplets but infinitely worse; at least the quints finished their thoughts or spoke over each other, rather than trading sentences back and forth like a volleyed tennis ball. "Fascinating. And more than a little creepy. The animal thing, I mean. But no. Professor Snape didn't say anything to me about you two."

Leaning in, the right-hand twin studied her. "Hmm. Did you see us out with our mother at Diagon Alley?" Hazel shook her head. "Okay, now I'm curious. Sister dearest, sickle please." Rolling her eyes, her twin complied and handed the girl a shiny silver coin that she in turn offered up to Hazel. "What's my name, then?"

Hazel closed her eyes; her powers were still uncontrolled enough that she couldn't always keep her eyes from glowing blue when she used them and she didn't want to give herself away quite yet. Reaching out, she let a tendril of thought drift across the girl's mind. "Hestia Carrow. You're slightly younger than your twin Flora. She's the responsible one, which is why your mother gave her all the money for both of you this term." Smirking at the dumbfounded look on Hestia's face, she took the sickle and gave it to Vi. "I believe this is mine."

"How did you do that?" Flora stared at Hazel with wide eyes. "The only way our own mother can keep track of us is by making us wear different colored hair accessories." The girls turned their heads in perfect synchronicity; Flora had a thick green ribbon holding her black hair back in a ponytail, while Hestia's was silver. "You're a total stranger. Seriously, how?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Finally, after considering and rejecting several possible explanations, Hazel just shrugged. "Magic."

Neither Flora nor Hestia appeared to accept that but after exchanging glances, opted to move on with the conversation anyways. "You're right, though. I'm Flora Carrow and she's Hestia. Violette, Daphne, Tracey, since you probably don't have Hazel's unnatural name-finding power… remember the hair. Green for me, silver for her. Our family has a fondness for Greco-Roman mythology, just like the Blacks prefer astronomy names."

"Our father's name is Ancaeus Carrow; he, our Uncle Amycus, and our Aunt Alecto were all Death Eaters in the war. The Carrows aren't a rich family and so when the dust settled, they ended up in Azkaban together and left our mother to raise us."

"Not that we're too broken up about it. We've visited them a few times and our father is definitely no prize."

"Mmm. Anyways, we live down in Penzance along the Channel; after the Spanish sacked the town in 1595, a few pureblood families got together and set up a Fidelius over a nice stretch of prime coastline. Figured if the muggles couldn't take care of it, they shouldn't be allowed to."

"Over the years, family heads died without passing on their secret and so now there's three families between eight houses. I think the one we just took over used to belong to a branch of Professor Black's family, actually."

"Maybe we can trade him some of the heirlooms we found for passes to the Restricted Section…"

"…or maybe he'll take up detentions we get and not supervise very well? Could be worth a try."

A hidden magical community along the coastline of England? Now that sounded cool. Especially in Cornwall. Idly, she wondered if a muggle ship could dock at said stretch of coast; maybe they could build a dock for Frost International ships to dock at, so anything questionable could come ashore with less scrutiny than a regular pier. "Well, since you all were nice enough to tell me about yourselves, I suppose fair's fair. My name is Hazel Zoe Frost and my mother is the CEO of a major muggle company called Frost International. Most of what they do is hard to put into magical terms, so I won't waste your time. I grew up in a place called Graham Land, down in Antarctica…"

Tracey's jaw dropped at that. "People don't live in Antarctica! Well, except scientists and penguins and some seals."

"Do I look like a seal, penguin, or scientist?" Tracey shook her head. "Then I guess other people live down there too, hmm?" Hazel reached up to tap on one of Vi's gauntlets. "Vi and I belong to a group of special people that live together away from the humans, sort of how you hide away from muggles. We've turned a piece of Antarctica into a jungle paradise called the Savage Land, where…"

* * *

**_September 3, 2001_**

* * *

"There, look."

"Where?"

"There, the blonde with the green eyes."

"Next to the purple-haired freak?"

"Did you see her face?"

"Did you see her scar?"

After the events of her first night at Hogwarts, Hazel found herself holing up in her dormitory as she tried to adjust to the new world she now found herself a part of. In hindsight, she realized she should have read more… known more… and set out to rectify that immediately. Splitting a small pile of books in half with Vi and picking the reading out of her companion's mind as they went, the pair easily demolished basic history, law, magical theory, zoology, and botany. Snape obviously hadn't given Tinky specific enough commands and the elf came whenever called, even after the first night, and the girls took full advantage of that. Meals were taken in the comfort and privacy of their room: lunch with Daphne and Tracey, the Carrow twins joining them for dinner and the sextet exiling Millicent and Pansy from ten till midnight that evening so they could partake in girl talk and snacks.

When they'd finally let the 'gruesome twosome' back into the dorm, it'd been because they were on their way out. The prefects had been suitably cowed by the earlier demonstration of Hazel and Vi's powers and so resistance to their departure was non-existent; with the Carrow twins' help, the group easily avoided Snape's wandering form as they explored the dungeons. And boy was there a lot to explore.

So far, in the winding dungeon corridors alone, they had found five distinct levels, twenty-six stairways connecting them, eighty-seven doorways - only a third of which they could open even with the twins' unlocking charms - and two passages hidden by the same spell that made the King's Cross barrier look like solid bricks. By and far the most exciting discovery, though, had been a room with a massive swimming pool, lit by floating glass globes filled with bright green fire. That was easily Hazel's favorite room - and Vi's least favorite - and the blonde was already planning to make regular visits. Especially come winter. Maybe the lamps gave off enough UV rays that she could get a tan, now that she was away from her mother and her odd neuroses about paleness.

Unfortunately for them, they'd stayed out far later than advisable given they had classes in the morning and now Hazel was stuck staggering up to the Great Hall for breakfast, half awake and surrounded by gossiping peers. Fanfuckingtastic, to borrow one of Tempest's favorite phrases. "This place better have coffee. And I want something Hi-Test."

Flora shook her head sadly, throwing an arm across Hazel's shoulders. "Sorry, kiddo, no coffee here. Even the tea the school serves is…"

"…low or no caffeine. I guess they don't trust a bunch of buzzed teenagers to try and learn magic." Hestia's arm came from the opposite direction, leaving Hazel sandwiched between the twins. "There's plenty of apple juice, though."

"Orange juice."

"Grape juice."

"Pumpkin juice."

"Sometimes there's cranberry juice when the headmaster's friend at Salem is on good terms with him."

"Or prune juice now and then when Dumbledore's digestive system isn't on good terms with him…"

Hazel reached up to rub her chin, looking back and forth at the twins speculatively. "I wonder how long it'll take me to get to animate-to-inanimate transfiguration. If only I knew a spell for pureblood-to-Starbucks transfiguration, I'd be set right now. I have a spare twin and I really need a mocha..."

Looking at each other, the twins immediately pointed across Hazel at each other. "I bet she'd taste better than me."

"After five years of Mother's marriage to the Trash-No-Longer-Known-as-Astrid-Frost and that woman's utter lack of class, I know far more jokes I could make in response to that than I prefer to. But unlike her, I'm civilized enough to keep them to myself." Dropping onto one of the bench seats at the Slytherin table, Hazel rested her elbows on the table and groaned. "No coffee and no e-mail make Hazel… something something. Tinky!" Evidently, the elf still hadn't been given a new assignment, popping into existence beside her legs under the table. "I need coffee. Two cups for me, one cup for Vi. Can you go find some?"

Tinky squirmed for a moment, wringing her tiny hands together, before abruptly perking up. "Tinky isn't supposed to give students coffee from the kitchens… that coffee is for staff only. But Tinky is allowed to leave Hogwarts, and nobody is telling Tinky that she can't bring coffee back with her."

Coughing to get her attendant's attention, Hazel thrust her hand out at Vi as the purple-haired girl settled into the seat across from her, Tracey and Daphne taking up the seats on either side of her. "Money." Vi rolled her eyes but produced a galleon from the white bag Hazel was making her carry, which the blonde quickly passed to the house elf. "Off you go. Remember, I need good coffee. Come back for more money if you need to." Tinky popped out of existence and Hazel grinned stupidly in anticipation of caffeinated bliss. "I hope it takes them a while to remember they loaned me her."

"Frost for Minister." Hestia let out a pitiful whine, slumping against Hazel's side and resting her head on the blonde's shoulder. "Flora, favorite sister of mine, you'll let me give her money for coffee tomorrow, right?"

Flora let out a little snort as she copied her sister's actions, not even stirring when breakfast began to pop into existence in front of them. "You take even days, I'll take odd. Otherwise we'll be out of money by Halloween."

When Tinky returned with three impressively large - and undeniably muggle - Styrofoam cups full of coffee, Hazel passed one off to Vi before pulling the lid off another and pouring half into Flora's cup, the other half going into Hestia's. The final cup she saved for herself. "You want some tomorrow, you're paying for it yourself. You're lucky these cups are big; I normally need two to get my day started."

"You're the best, Hazel!" The exclamation come from both sides of her at once and so did the sudden kisses to her cheeks. Hazel grimaced and rubbed at her skin, her fears confirmed when she came away with a black smudge. The Carrows had been playing with Vi's muggle cosmetics that morning, fascinated in particular by lipstick. She'd have to stop by the nearest bathroom before her first class, she decided.

Not trusting her stomach to handle anything too substantial, Hazel stuck to toast with strawberry jam and coffee even as Vi eagerly dove into the full variety of English breakfast offerings. Ten minutes or so later, the rest of the Slytherin first years appeared, sparing the sextet an odd look before settling in a bit further down. It was then that Snape descended from the head table, dumping a fistful of schedules onto the far end of the table before approaching the ten first years to deliver theirs personally. For some reason, Hazel found herself receiving her schedule last and when he finally got around to her, he raised an eyebrow at her twin shoulder ornaments. "If I were you, Miss Frost, I would consult with a mirror before attending class. And seek out other students to tutor me if I needed help with transfiguration."

What? Oh, right, the exploding critters problem the Carrow twins had. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, sir." Snape raised a brow and Hazel smiled back angelically, making him snort before handing over her schedule and walking away. "Charming fellow. Makes my sister's father seem chatty by comparison."

"…what?" Tracey's brow furrowed as she flipped over her schedule, pulling out a quill and sketching out the three branches that the wizarding world knew about for Hazel's family tree: 'James Potter', 'Lily Potter née Evans', and 'Harry Potter'. After a moment, she changed the final entry to read 'Harry Potter/Hazel Frost'. "Alright, now… you said 'my sister's father' just now. That means a half-sister, right? With the same mother?" Hazel nodded and Tracey drew a dashed line across from Lily. "Err, what's his name? And when did he sleep with Lily? Is she your older or younger sister?"

Hazel blinked stupidly before realizing the erroneous assumption that Tracey was making. "Right, you don't know about my parents. It's more like this." Flipping her own schedule over, she drew three boxes side by side and labeled them: 'James Potter', 'Lily Potter née Evans', and 'Emma Frost'. Drawing a line straight down from Lily, she added 'Harry Potter/Hazel Frost' under her one constant parent, before adding connecting lines from James and Emma. "Okay, these are my parents. I'll explain it later if you really want to know. Now…" Drawing a dashed line from Emma's name out to the right, she added 'James Howlett' before adding a downward line for a child: 'Laurel Frost'. "My half-sister is the daughter of Emma and James. James is the one who's about a half step above a bear on the polite conversation-o-meter. Although I'm not sure who's hairier: him or a bear. Or who smells worse."

Letting out a little snort, Vi choked on her coffee before tapping the paper. "James. For both. Those cigars of his… ugh."

When neither Hazel nor Vi elaborated on that subject, Tracey turned Hazel's family tree around so she could read it. "So, is that your family now that the Potters are, erm, gone? This Emma Frost woman, James, and Laurel?"

"Nope." She'd anticipated this question and so Hazel had drawn her tree in the upper left corner, giving her plenty of room in which to work. She added six more spokes off Emma for significant others, five of those lines receiving branches for children. The first, childless spoke became 'Astrid Bloom'. "Astrid here is the only one Mother actually was with. The rest are just the fathers of her children. Astrid and Emma married seven years ago and made it five years before divorcing. Longer than I would have guessed. Not really relevant, though."

Not wanting to give the others time to process and comment on that one, Hazel began labeling the branches with children: 'Celeste Frost', 'Esme Frost', 'Ivette Frost', 'Phoebe Frost', and 'Sophie Frost'. Then she doubled back and began adding her other half-sisters' fathers. "Celeste's father is named Giancarlo Betto. Very nice Italian man who works for my mother; he'd love all the magical plants here. Maybe she'll bring him around when she picks me up for Christmas and he can get some samples. Then we have Esme, who's probably the most visibly different because her father is Japanese. She's got the eyes and her skin's a bit off compared to the others. Well, so is Celeste's, but you can see it easier on Esme. Ivette didn't get much from her second mother Petra, at least on the outside, while Phoebe has these gorgeous curls with a bit of a green tinge to them. I'm still jealous of her gene pool: I have put in a lot of work to have the curls I do, while she gets them naturally from her second maternal grandmother Magda. And I don't think any of us have really met Sophie's father Morris, although I think he's a… something with water treatment. Taking salt out of ocean water so we can drink it, cleaning the waste out of used water, and so on."

Flora and Hestia let out low whistles in eerie stereo synchronicity as they stared at the paper. "Because we've seen what you can do, we want you to know we mean this in the best way possible…"

"…but we think we can state without a shadow of a doubt that your mother…"

"…is the biggest slag in human history." Flora shook her head in disbelief. "And we thought finding out our parents met when she was working in a Knockturn Alley brothel was bad. Holy hell."

Flipping her schedule back over, Hazel passed it off to Vi for safekeeping. "Shut up. There's a reasonable explanation. She only slept with two of them. And just for that, no coffee for either of you tomorrow no matter how much you pay me. Vi, Daphne, Tracey… first period is Transfiguration with McGonagall. Doubt the head of Gryffindor needs an excuse to dock us points. Let's get going so we're there early."

Hazel ignored the calls of the twins as she herded her somewhat more awake dormmates out of the Great Hall, heading up two flights of stairs before navigating the hallways inward, following the map the Carrows had sketched out for her. It was far from comprehensive and only covered the floors with the core classrooms on them, but it was better than nothing.

Ignoring the whispers of her peers - which was a generous description, considering how loud they were being - Hazel consulted her map one last time before tucking it away as they turned the corner, moving along the edge of a grassy courtyard until they reached a large door. "Here we go. Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall; us and the Hufflepuffs." The door was open and so Hazel entered, taking a seat at one of the rearmost desks so Vi could lean against the wall behind her. It beat having Vi obstruct someone else's view with her hovering, she reckoned, and putting their back to a corner cut off half of the angles for attack.

As Hazel stared at Tracey and Daphne, trying to figure out how to gracefully handle the social conundrum that was two growing-into-friends and a single seat beside her, the decision was taken from her. "Out of my way, nathraichean." Forcing her way between the two girls, Ráichéal plopped down beside Hazel and proceeded to release her hair from its pigtails, slipping the yellow hair ties onto her wrist as she pulled a brush out of her bag and went to work on it. "Dia dhuit ar maidin, Hazel. Where've you been for the last day? The girls and I were starting to wonder if you'd been expelled or something."

"No, just been holed up down in the dungeons. Reading, mostly, since I'm supposed to be your savior but I came here knowing pretty much zilch about your world. Not that I really care what people think about me in general, but I do prefer to avoid looking like an idiot. Spent a little time exploring, too, and making friends with my dormmates." She gestured to Daphne and Tracey, who were seating themselves at the desk in front of the one she and Ráichéal had claimed. Then Hazel winced as she realized something very important. The problem that McGonagall had come stomping into the headmaster's office about had never been resolved… and she was about to have class with the professor in question. Fun. Or maybe it had been taken care of and they just hadn't needed her presence? "So, whatever happened to the pity pool problem?"

Hissing loudly, a cat hopped up onto the desk between them before landing on the floor between the pair and the next desk forward. Rippling, the cat stretched upward and transformed into… Professor McGonagall? To borrow a term she'd heard her dormmates use… bugger. The cat transformation thing was beyond cool, but bugger nonetheless. "The 'pity pool problem', as you put it, will be dealt with after class. You and Miss Murray will stay to discuss the matter with me. Miss Murray, five points from Hufflepuff. My class is not the place to handle matters of personal grooming. Miss Frost, five points from Slytherin for being out of uniform."

Hazel raised an eyebrow; was the professor really going to take off five points a class for her attire or was she just being cranky about the pity fund incident? Because if her pure white uniforms were going to be an ongoing problem… two classes a week… roughly four weeks a month… here till June… that was roughly four hundred points she'd have to earn for Slytherin just to break even with McGonagall's deductions. Then again, according to Daphne, her head of house was notorious for favoring the Slytherins…

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts." Making her way to the front of the class, McGonagall swept her gaze over the room to ensure the message was being received. Judging by the faces of her peers, Hazel was pretty sure it was. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again.

Well that was… interesting. To be polite. While Hazel didn't think she'd ever have a use for that particular transfiguration spell, she decided to trust in the woman who the school had decided was fit to teach them, attacking their first assignment with enthusiasm. Matchsticks to needles. She could see a use for that: Vi was starting to develop an ability much like Lorna's and being able to turn bits of wood into ammo could be useful. Unfortunately, neither she nor anyone else managed to get much past making the match silvery… but it was a start.

True to her word, McGonagall held Hazel and Ráichéal after class, waiting for their peers to depart before closing and locking the door with a flick of her wand. "Now, I have already heard the details of your behavior on the train from Miss Li. What do you two have to say for yourselves?"

"Granger's a pain." Ráichéal shrugged defensively. "Since when is it against the rules to not like someone?"

McGonagall's mouth worked for a moment. "Strictly speaking, it is not, however…"

Not wanting to let the professor gain any steam, Hazel cut her off. "So if it's not against the rules, then why are we being punished? We all thought going into the same house as Granger would be… unpleasant. So we put galleons into a bag to give to whoever did, so they could buy themselves headache potions and the like off older students. Seems perfectly reasonable to me."

"Yes, well, what seems 'perfectly reasonable' to a pair of young girls and what seems 'perfectly reasonable' to a grown adult will, in all likelihood, seldom be the same thing. And seeing as how I'm the deputy headmistress and you are not, I am the one with the power to decide what is and isn't acceptable behavior here." Reaching into her robes, McGonagall pulled out a familiar bag and dropped it onto the desk. "I've confiscated this from Miss Li and will be giving it to Miss Granger after dinner tonight. Furthermore…"

Reaching out with her mind, Hazel sent two words over her link to Vi. _'Grab it.'_ A metal-covered hand shot out, grabbing the bag before McGonagall could pick it back up. "I'm sorry, professor, but that money is either Mei-Xing's or ours. Taking it and giving it to Granger would be stealing, and stealing is wrong." Two spots of color appeared high up on the professor's cheeks as Hazel held her hand out, taking the bag from Vi and tucking it into her satchel. "You could always give her some of your own galleons if you really want her to have money. Now, is there anything else or can I head to… History of Magic with the Ravenclaws?"

McGonagall shook her head. "You're dismissed. And another five points from Slytherin for your cheek, Miss Frost. Oh, and I would see to acquiring a proper uniform if I was you, young lady. Otherwise, it's going to be a long and deduction-filled year for you."

"You know, you're right. I should start looking into getting another uniform to wear. Come to think of it, I've always been partial to pale blue silk…" Rising from her seat, Hazel stuffed _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ into her bag and handed it to Vi to carry. "Something for me to discuss with Dumbledore when he calls me back to his office, I suppose. Ráichéal, see you at lunch. Grab Mei-Xing on the way out of class and meet the rest of us at the end of the Slytherin table. Come on, pack mule. To History of Magic we go."

Grumbling as they went, Vi took up guide duties using the Carrows' map and they managed to make it to the fourth floor classroom on time in spite of McGonagall's delay. The desks were a tad larger, each seating three, and Hazel quickly commandeered one for herself before looking around the room. Catrìona was sitting near the front of the room and Hazel whistled softly to get the Ravenclaw's attention before beckoning to her. After looking at her current seatmates and shrugging apologetically, she rose and moved to join Hazel near the back.

That left her with an empty spot and, remembering the incident in Transfiguration, Hazel waited until Daphne and Tracey slipped into the room before coughing lightly to get the pair's attention, nodding to the seat beside her. The two girls drew their wands, momentarily alarming Hazel, but when they began to tap the tips against their palms, she settled in to watch what was going on. On some prearranged signal, each girl whispered a single word and hazy figures emerged from the tips of their wands. Tracey's was a dragon while Daphne had a giant squid. Scowling, Daphne waved her wand to dispel her creation before turning away and heading over to drop into a seat beside two nervous looking Ravenclaws. Their own version of 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'. Just with magic. Cool. As Tracey joined her, Hazel offered the redhead an apologetic smile. "Sorry about this morning. Ráichéal is… Ráichéal."

"It's okay. She kinda reminds me of Daphne, actually. So no harm, no foul. If she pushes me into a pile of fertilizer in Herbology or something, though, we're going to have words." The door at the front of the room creaked and Tracey sat up straighter, digging into her bag. "No wonder we didn't get in trouble for being late. The professor's late too."

Hazel nodded absently, accepting her copy of _A History of Magic_ from Vi after the purple-haired girl dug it out of her bag. Looking back and forth, she eyed her companions. Redhead to the left of her and… Catrìona was an auburn blondish color that Hazel didn't quite have a word for. Red enough, though. Well, when in Rome… raising her wand, Hazel murmured the charm she'd used two nights previously to change her hair color. "_Mutare coloris_." Using her wand to hook a curl, she pulled it forward so she could inspect it. It was once again the same red as in Sirius's memories of her mother. Perfect.

A moment later, Professor Black came bustling out of his office with a handful of scrolls and a thick book. "Good morning, class. My name is Sirius Black and I'll be your teacher this year, since Professor Binns has decided to take a year long sabbatical to catch up on the last two or three hundred years worth of history. Now, let's take… wait. I count… yep, ten Ravenclaws and ten Slytherins. And one girl with purple hair." His eyes swept over Hazel and she smiled cheekily, giving him a little wave. Black abruptly looked away, plastering a wide and very fake smile on his face. "Not counting her, either everyone's here or you've conned someone into showing up for you. Either way, I've got twenty students and so I get to collect my paycheck. So let's get started with a topic that's probably the only one both wizarding and muggle-raised kids will know at least a little about: witch burnings." Grabbing one of the scrolls, he flicked his wand at it and the scroll unrolled before moving to hover behind him, displaying an image of a witch being burned at the stake. "To get things going… who wants to hazard a guess as to why muggles tried to kill wizards and witches?"

Catrìona's hand went up and, after getting a nod from Black, she answered. "Let no one be found among you who sacrifices his son or daughter in the fire, who practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or who is a medium or spiritist or who consults the dead. Anyone who does these things is detestable to the Lord. The Book of Deuteronomy, chapter eighteen, verses ten through twelve."

"Err… I was going to go with 'they fear us', but I suppose that works. Wow. You're, uh, a little scary. Has anyone ever told you that?" Giving Catrìona an uncertain look, Black turned back to the floating scroll. "Now, muggles were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but…"

Coughing to interrupt him, Hazel thrust her hand into the air. "Excuse me, professor? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Hogwarts supposed to be a school that welcomes students of all faiths?" Looking a bit confused, Black nodded. "Then wouldn't calling one of your students 'scary' for being religious be… let's go with 'creating a hostile learning environment'. I always loved seeing that on my little sisters' report cards."

Black simply stared at her as if she'd grown a spare head. "You do realize that your head of house tends to punish people for running in the halls by making them cut up animals for potions ingredients, right?"

"So?"

"So it's fine with you that Professor Snivellus does that, while you're yelling at me for calling your classmate scary? Are you serious?"

Arching a brow, the faintest of smirks crossed Hazel's lips. "I thought that was you, Professor Black?"

Black groaned, reaching up to rub his palm across his face. "I knew making that joke would come back to bite me on the ass someday. Fine. Miss Ramsay, I'm sorry for calling you scary. Now, Lil-err, Miss Frost, may I continue the lesson? Or do you have more wisdom to share?" Hazel leaned back in her seat, waving dismissively at him. "Thank you, Your Highness. Now, as I was saying, muggles were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. When they actually did manage to catch a real witch or wizard, burning didn't actually kill them because the witch or wizard could cast a Flame-Freezing Charm on themselves and feel nothing more than a gentle, tickling sensation." He chuckled before unrolling another scroll with his wand and directing it to float beside the first. "Wendelin the Weird was actually caught and 'burned' forty-seven separate times. Hence the name. A few notable witches and wizards actually did perish at muggle hands, though, including…"

As the lecture continued, Hazel kept half her attention on taking half-assed notes so she could look things up later and the other half on the scowling Catrìona. She debated using her powers to peek into the redhead's mind but eventually decided against it. Making herself available and waiting for the Ravenclaw to come to her could give them a way to bond. Plus, she doubted Catrìona would be amused if she found out Hazel was poking around inside her mind. At least before the blonde had a chance to mention that power to her friends… if she did.

After their little confrontation, Black ignored the mixed house trio when it came to asking random students for answers, only calling on Tracey or Catrìona when they raised their hands. And so after two hours of boredom, class came to an end and Hazel returned her textbook to Vi's possession before gathering up her bodyguard and her two friends, and heading off to lunch.


	6. Capital T That Rhymes With P

Joe's Note: Full title should be 'Capital T That Rhymes With P That Stands For Pool' but FF.N hates me. To my damn near stupidest critic to date, I was told that Hazel being able to change her hair color makes her a Mary Sue… despite Ráichéal demonstrating the spell on the train, Hermione mentioning being able to do several spells off the bat on the train, and in the film Hermione even repairs Harry's glasses before ever reaching Hogwarts. Now, a girl who has shown herself capable of mining someone's mind to steal language skills - speaking Gaeilge in front of Dumbledore last chapter - sees a useful spell demonstrated for her by a peer… is it really that hard that even if she can't learn purely by mimicry, she can learn it the same way she 'learned' Gaeilge? Oh, and I'll state right now that Janet will be explained in the next chapter for those of you not familiar with Marvel characters. So anyone caught dropping a 'OMGWTFWHO?' review is going to get a swift kick in the nuts, I swear.

* * *

**_September 3, 2001_**

* * *

Arriving in the Great Hall, Hazel easily spotted the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor standing near the end of the Slytherin table, Ráichéal returning the glares that Hazel's housemates were sending her way. Wanting to nip the inevitable confrontation in the bud, she gave a sharp whistle to get the Carrow twins' attention before nodding towards the door. After letting Mei-Xing, Catrìona, and Ráichéal each collect a friend, the now twelve strong group had made their way to the dungeons. Tinky had been waiting for them in the third sublevel pool with a picnic basket full of food and so they'd settled in to enjoy lunch and some downtime before their respective afternoon classes.

Or rather, the other girls were enjoying food and rest while Hazel was talking herself nearly hoarse trying to explain everything she was willing to share to her curious audience. "…and so it's all connected. The muggle scientist who made me from Harry into Hazel is the same one who made my half-sisters for my mother. Each of them has a different father or second mother because she wanted them to have different powers. So I really am Harry Potter in a way, just not the one the wizarding world was expecting. And no, my mother isn't a slag. She was married to Astrid for five years and had an accident with James."

"What, did she slip and fall on his todger or something?" Snickering, Hestia nudged her sister. "I like that one. Write it down so we can use that again later."

Hazel cleared her throat, arching a brow as Hestia eyed her nervously. "I'm sorry, what was that? What with your parents' idea of foreplay being negotiating the hourly rate and all… do you really want to get into our mums' sex lives?" Both of the Carrow twins shook their heads. "Good. Now, anyone else want to ask anything? Anything not related to my mother's bedroom habits, that is?"

Raising her hand, Lavender Brown nibbled on her lower lip before finding the courage to ask her question. Which was precisely why Hazel had approved of Mei-Xing bringing the blonde along; the more questions the girl got answered, the more information she could spread and the less Hazel would be bothered by her peers. And there was the added bonus of Lavender's presence making most of the other girls feel a good deal smarter, of course. "So, if you lived in this Savage Land with whoever 'Emma Frost' is…" Catrìona let out a choked little snort at this, echoed by Megan Jones, who had come as Ráichéal's guest. "…and traveled to all these other countries with her… why did you come to Hogwarts? There's Salem in America, Beauxbatons in France… or if it had to be Britain, why not St. David's, St. Andrew's, the Athenry Academy, or…"

"Well, Hogwarts sent me a letter. I didn't even know I was a witch until I got it. Just like most of you don't know who Emma Frost is, Emma's a muggle and didn't know about me being the famous 'Boy-Who-Lived'. And they're going to need to reprint an awful lot of books now, aren't they? But seriously, I didn't even know about any other school until it was too later to change." Hazel frowned. "I know the Athenry Academy from Ráichéal's mind, but what are…"

Ráichéal shot upright just as Hazel realized her mistake, groaning softly. "Wait a minute. What do you mean, my mind? You're a legilimens?"

There was a shriek from Mei-Xing as Vi began cackling, tipping over sideways and taking the diminutive Chinese witch with her in the process. "You made it two days! You were worried about me spilling your secret, and you messed up in two days! In your face!"

Hazel groaned and reached up to rub her temples. They had covered mutation and her powers - along with the powers of her mother, nanny, siblings, and a few friends - earlier, which meant the discussion would be fresh in their minds. As would her assertion that transmorphing was 'all' she could do. Crap. "No, not a legilimens, Ráichéal. But I can get into your mind because of my powers. My diamond form is only my secondary mutation. My main power is that I'm a telepath. Although right now I can only read minds."

"You can 'only' read minds? That's an 'only' to you?" Ráichéal scooted back a bit, eyeing Hazel distrustfully. "As opposed to what? And why were you in mind?"

"Tréimhsí an báisteach sa Spáinn go príomha i simplí."

That just made the Irish Hufflepuff blink. "What does rain in Spain staying on the plain have to do with anything?" She paused and then suddenly understanding dawned. "Wait a minute, you can speak..?"

Hazel shook her head. "No. But you can and I can read your mind. I went in the other day to get a translation. For my meeting with the headmaster. Mother taught me how to threaten to go to Beauxbatons in French; I wanted the same thing in Gaeilge for the Athenry Academy."

"So you can really read our minds? That's bloody freaky. Cool, but freaky." Pushing Vi off her, Mei-Xing carefully crawled around her lunch plate and came to kneel in front of Hazel, staring into the blonde's eyes. "What am I thinking?"

Reaching into Mei-Xing's mind hesitantly, Hazel let tendrils crawl over the witch's surface thoughts, searching for something interesting. "You're wishing you could go to Beauxbatons like someone named Alezae, because the French like frogs and you could probably get something similar to… steamed lotus leaf frog, whatever that is."

Mei-Xing leaned back to sit on her heels, wide-eyed. "Pretty much what it sounds like, although there is more to it than just lotus leaves and frog legs. It's my favorite food back home. Wow. That's…"

"Hey, Hazel. What am I thinking?" Meeting the glaring Hufflepuff's eyes, Hazel's entry into Ráichéal's mind was even more tentative. Within a second of touching the girl's mind, she saw an image of herself getting hit with a sickly yellow spell from her friend's mind. Pulling back out, Hazel shivered at the look on Ráichéal's face. Had her mother started selling Intimidating Looks for Dummies at some point? "Go into my head without my permission again, and we can act that little scene out. I don't mind helping you, especially when it comes to messing with adults, but asking before borrowing something from someone is just good manners."

Nodding, Hazel held her hands up in surrender. "Understood, loud and clear. And I don't do it constantly. I just wanted to hide that part of me until I had to share it. Didn't picture two days into the year being 'had to'. Stupid mouth. Oh well. No use crying over spilt milk. Just get a servant to clean it up and get on with your life. Speaking of servants… Tinky! Can you get rid of the plates and leftover food?" Without the elf even appearing, the flatware and serving dishes began to disappear. "God, I love elves."

From her spot behind Mei-Xing, Morag MacDougal reached a thick arm forward and hooked it around the Gryffindor's waist, hauling her back to the outskirts of the circle so people could speak without having to look around the girl. "So, mind reading is 'only'… that means you'll be able to do more. Like what?"

"Well, my mother can implant memories or make people follow her commands… erase memories… transfer information into other people's heads… create illusions… I know two other psionic mutants who can outright attack with their powers, so I might be able to learn how to do that… supposedly Uncle Charles was crippled for a while before moving his own brain to a new body without help like I had. That's just rumor, though." Hazel trailed off, the others staring at her with gaping mouths. "What?"

Megan spoke for the first time, her thick Welsh accent making Hazel itch to dive into the girl's mind and fish out a translation for what she was trying to say. But she restrained herself; using her powers on people already ill at ease after her confession would just be idiotic. "You're scary. Thoughts are supposed to be private. Minds are. If you can't trust your own mind, what can you trust? But you can change us. Make us see things… do things… forget things. Hurt us. It's scary."

Pausing, Hazel pondered how to best combat that. "Magic can do all those things, though, can't it?"

"Magic's scary too." Tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear, Megan stared off at a point over Hazel's shoulder. "That's why my parents made me come. They were scared of me. I'd get angry and things would happen. Professor Flitwick said coming here would change that. So they packed me up and sent me off."

Scoffing, Hazel waved dismissively. "Things would happen? What's the worst you ever did? Because back on September 1st, Laurel freaked when a delivery owl came after her and stabbed it to death. Compared to her, I bet you're normal."

Megan's eyes met Hazel's. "The girl next door got a Corgi. It bit my leg twice. Then it turned inside out."

"Wow. Okay, maybe you are scary. Then again, so am I and so is Catrìona according to Professor Black, so you're in good company." Megan gave a little shrug and Hazel turned to the others. "So, I promise not to go into your minds without permission anymore. Now Megan, promise not to turn any of us inside out and Catrìona, promise not to be so smart. And then we can all relax and enjoy the time from now until our next class."

"I bet you won't be saying that when it's time for OWLs and NEWTs." Catrìona sniffed, looking down her nose at them even as a small smile tugged at her lips. "But fine. I promise not to be scarily smart anymore."

All eyes turned to Megan. "I won't turn any of you inside out unless you bite me first."

Holding up an imaginary quill, Flora pantomimed writing in midair. "Right then. Mental note: no biting the Hufflepuff midget if we want our insides to stay on the insides. We can handle that, right, Hestia?"

Hestia nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely, Flora. Not to mention that not biting people is a good policy in general."

"Mmm. Never know where they've been. Imagine what you might catch if you bit Malfoy?"

"Or Crabbe?"

"Or Goyle?"

Groaning, a vaguely green Daphne wrapped her arms around her middle. "Stop, please. Those two are vile. I was sitting close enough to smell one of them during History of Magic because Tracey abandoned me to join the Redhead Retreat. At least I think it was only one of them. Could have been both. Whoever it was, they smelled like a sack of dragon manure in the summertime."

The blonde's comments broke the serious mood and all the girls enjoyed a laugh before rising from the floor and looking around. Hazel ambled over to the edge of the pool, staring down into the water before wrinkling her nose as she spotted something growing on the bottom. "I was going to suggest going for a swim but even if we had swimsuits with us or could get them, this water is pretty gross."

"Well, not that this hasn't been fascinating and all, but I just remembered that I promised to do… something… with someone…" Looking back over her shoulder, Hazel watched as Lavender smiled brightly, inching towards the door. "So… see you around. Bye!" And then she was gone.

Morag chuckled as she stretched before bending down to grab her school bag. "She won't be back. Like you care, though; you've already used her for what you wanted." Hazel eyed the Ravenclaw curiously; had she really been that obvious? The Scottish girl shrugged. "I'm a Ravenclaw. Why else would you want a girl who can't keep her mouth shut around? Because you want her to tell someone something that you told her. Don't know why I'm here, except to make Catrìona happy. I don't mind if she has other friends, though. So… I'm off. Nice meeting you."

Watching Morag leave, Hazel pondered something. "No Ravenclaw other than Catrìona wants to spend time with us. They're supposed to be the smart ones. Do you think that says something about us?"

"They're just jealous of how interesting we are." Ráichéal nodded sagely. "That's our story, and we're sticking to it."

* * *

After spending another hour or so getting to know each other, both as a larger group and in pairs and trios, the girls left the pool room behind and split up to attend their afternoon classes. For Hazel, it was Herbology with Mei-Xing and the other Gryffindors. The two hours spent in the greenhouse were easily the most disgusting moments of her schooling to date and the idea of spending two hours a day, three days a week mucking around with dirt, fertilizer, and bizarre plants was cringe-worthy to Hazel. Maybe she could find some loophole in the Hogwarts rules to exploit so she could make Vi do her practical work… after she secured Vi's presence at the school as a permanent thing, of course.

Reentering the school, the Slytherins made their way down through what Hazel had nicknamed Bottleneck Corridor, the sole passage connecting the ground floor with the school's lower levels, returning to their common room to drop off their bags and freshen up a bit before dinner. Side by side by side, Hazel, Tracey, and Daphne tried to scrub their hands clean as Vi leaned against the bathroom wall, enjoying a laugh at their expense. Ignoring her cackling friend, Hazel opted to converse with her dormmates. "I had an idea when we were in Herbology. What do you guys think of turning the pool into a giant koi pond of sorts. I mean, we'd still be able to swim in it and stuff, but we could use nature to take care of it instead of something wizard-made."

"I'm not sure?" Daphne turned off the sink in front of her, drying her hands before scowling. "Still have dirt under my nails. From now on, I'm bringing those gloves we had to buy to Herbology too. This is disgusting. But Hazel, maybe if I knew what a 'koi pond' was, I could answer?"

Tracey let out a groan at that, bumping Daphne with her hip. "Your neighbor - well, as much as someone a few acres away can be called a neighbor - has a koi pond. Remember? I wanted to sneak onto their property and get a look, you asked me what was so fascinating about a fake pond, I explained it, and you thought muggles were barmy for not knowing what fish tanks were for? Any of this ringing a bell?"

Thinking that over, Daphne held her hands up about a foot and a half apart. "The people who were raising those creepy giant fish? You want to do that to the pool?"

"Well, regular pools need a lot of work. But if we do our job right, we can have a nice fake pond that takes care of itself. Especially if that pool has some sort of connection to the outside to keep the water fresh. We could get some dirt and pack the bottom of the pool so it's like a real pond, let the plants grow, drop some fish in… there are even fish that eat algae and other gross stuff so we won't have to worry about cleaning." Daphne still didn't look entirely sure about the idea and so Hazel decided to stop pushing for the time being. She had seven years, after all. Rome wasn't built in a day.

Staring at herself in the mirror, Hazel frowned. After Snape's reaction to her as a redhead, she didn't want to go to the Great Hall and potentially run into him again while using the look. But she hadn't heard how Ráichéal had restored her hair to its normal brown, either. "Daphne? Tracey? Do either of you know how to turn my hair back to normal?"

Daphne nodded, pulling her wand out and pointing it at the top of Hazel's head. "Quick lesson here: when in doubt, try this spell first. It cancels a lot of spells that don't need a specific counterspell. _Finite incantatem_!"

Peeking at the mirror out of the corner of her eye as Daphne cast the spell, Hazel watched as her red hair returned to its natural platinum blonde color. "Huh. That's what Professor Black cast the other night. They must have thought I was someone else under a spell, pretending to be Harry Potter. Now I actually feel a little bad about Vi zapping him."

"I don't."

"Yes, well, Mother says you're only a few points shy of the threshold on the PCL-R. What do you expect?"

* * *

**_September 4, 2001_**

* * *

Hazel's second day of classes saw the debut of two more core classes: Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Charms had been interesting enough, apart from Professor Flitwick squeaking and falling off the pile of books he used to see over his desk when he read her name. They'd gone over the syllabus for the year and Hazel had been delighted to discover the first charm they'd be learning would essentially give her an ability that both she and her mother lacked and coveted: telekinesis. Hah. See how special Jean felt come Christmas, when she came home and could send stuff flying around with her wand.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, on the other hand, turned out to be a joke. The entire place reeked of garlic worse than the kitchen had back when her mother had gone on an Italian kick and ordered the cook to prepare nothing but for over a month. Supposedly he'd run into a vampire and was wary of a repeat encounter but if her choices were facing a vampire or smelling that foul, Hazel was fairly certain she'd take the vampire. How he'd survived the first go round was also something nobody could figure out; the man had a horrible stutter and jumped at shadows. How the school expected her to learn anything from him was a mystery and Hazel found herself sincerely considering jumping ship to head for Beauxbatons, Athenry, or one of the other schools Lavender had mentioned.

Another strike against remaining at Hogwarts occurred that night after dinner. Since the wizards evidently lacked anything akin to a planetarium or other means of interactive learning about the universe, Hazel found herself catching a quick catnap before being dragged out of bed by Vi so she could join the other Slytherins in hiking up to the top of the Astronomy Tower. There they found Professor Sinistra waiting for them and were quickly segregated by year and sent to various levels of the tower to begin their work. With five years of students to work with simultaneously, individual attention was non-existent and even general supervision was lacking. Hazel found herself experiencing that personally about ten minutes into the class.

"So, Potter…" Looking up from where she was finishing attaching her telescope to the base Vi was holding steady, Hazel quirked a glittering brow at the unexpected form of address. Potter? Had Malfoy… wait, no, he'd been in the common room that first night. He knew. Heck, he'd been in the first two days of classes with her when roll was called. He definitely knew her real last name. So why Potter? "Interesting toy you have there. There are two stores in Diagon Alley that sell telescopes and my parents and I visited both of them. Only the best for a Malfoy, you know. And that… that was not being sold in either store."

Hazel looked from Malfoy to the telescope in question and back. "Well I wouldn't think so. It's a Bushnell Harbormaster." He stared at her blankly. "A muggle telescope. All the ones I saw at the stores in Diagon Alley were horrible quality. I bought a brass refractor so I'd fit in, but this is probably the best student telescope in the school right now." Leaning back down to tighten a screw, she shook her head. "Better be, considering how much my mother paid for it…"

Feet moved closer in the corner of her eye as Malfoy slipped past Vi and leaned against the wall, watching her. "Oh really? And how much did your muggle trash mother pay for this toy of yours?"

"Let's see… multiply 5 by 1.44… then divide $1750 by 7.21… hang on, I need a quill. Vi?" Her purple-haired attendant dug out a long black quill and a piece of parchment, allowing Hazel to check her conversions before doing the very long division. Then she did it again, just to be sure. "According to this, if I remember the exchange rate the goblins gave us right? Two hundred and forty-two galleons and a handful of sickles and knuts."

Hazel looked at Malfoy, watching the boy's face cycle through a barely concealed variety of emotions before settling on a smirk that Hazel didn't quite understand. "I see. Well, I suppose the boys and I had better get to work. Don't want Professor Sinistra to come back and find we haven't even started, now do we? C'mon Crabbe, Goyle. Off we go."

Watching the trio retreat, Hazel had a feeling that the encounter was just the beginning of something larger. Vi evidently shared her thoughts. "Did you really have to go bragging about how much Miss Frost spent on this thing?"

"The Malfoys are all about wealth and power. He's not going to respect Mother being the CEO of a huge corporation just because she's a muggle. But money talks. Even if American dollars and British pounds aren't galleons, they can be converted and that means a rich muggle could be a rich magical. So that takes the Frost family, in his mind at least, from nobodies to political nobodies with a lot of money." Hazel reverted to her flesh and blood form before quickly returning to her diamond form. She'd needed the boost in strength her diamond form brought to haul the thirty-five pound telescope all the way up to the tower and hadn't even considered the fact that the room was open to the night air. While the days weren't bad, the Scottish night at the top of an open tower left a bit to be desired. "Brr. I hope we move to theory - and another classroom - come winter. Alright, let's see that worksheet of Sinistra's."

The worksheet wasn't anything terribly difficult for her; simply adding dots to a map of the sky with one's best guess as to the identity of the star or celestial body. While it wasn't something she could literally do with her eyes closed for obvious reasons, her fascination with the changing skies during her travels paid off and Hazel began to dot the parchment rapidly as she stared up at the sky, figuring she'd add labels later in the comfort of her common room. After adding Jupiter, Hazel began debating drawing in a diagram of the planet and which moons she could see, only to be torn from her thoughts. "Hazel!"

Jerking her head up to look at Vi, she found the girl staring off to her right and whipped her head around, eyes widening as she found a large figure charging her way. Acting purely on instinct, Hazel moved to shield the telescope with her body, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a single lunging step forward. Her body slammed into the oncoming mass and it let out a grunt of escaping air before collapsing to the floor, curling into a fetal ball. It took her a moment to realize what had just happened and then she poked Crabbe with her toe. "Now what was that all about?"

Crabbe was prevented from answering by his fellow Neanderthal Goyle leaping into the fray. Or rather, Goyle attempted to leap to his friend's defense. What he managed was a few lumbering steps before being met by Vi, sparks arcing between the electrokine's fingers and casting rapidly shifting shadows as the bursts of purple lightning illuminated the room. "Back off, Poppin' Fresh. Touch Hazel and you're going to join your buddy on the floor." Goyle appeared to consider that and looked back at Malfoy, who just nodded for him to proceed. He took a step forward, causing Vi to likewise inch forward. "I'm not a TASER, but I can play one on TV. Last warning."

"I gotta. If I don't do what he says, his dad tells my dad and I get in trouble. Sorry. It's nothing personal." Taking one more step forward, Goyle pulled one meaty fist back before throwing a punch at Hazel. The blonde easily dodged the telegraphed punch, allowing Vi to get one hand on Goyle's wrist and the other on his bicep. Then she grinned ferally, eyes flashing and lightning arcing between the pins holding her hair in its familiar bun, before unleashing her powers. "Ahh! Make it stop! Someone help me!"

The door to their level of the Astronomy Tower slammed open, Sinistra rushing in with her wand raised. The wall sconces burst to life as she flicked her wand, destroying their night vision as the world was bathed in orange light. "What in Merlin's name is going on here? You, Miss Novak. Unhand that boy." Vi released Goyle, letting him slump to the floor as she raised her hands in surrender. "Now. I want an explanation and I want it now. I left you with simple class work and came back to students fighting."

Looking down at the pitiful lumps that were Crabbe and Goyle, then up at Malfoy's paler than usual face, Hazel shrugged. "Just a misunderstanding. Everything's settled now." Sinistra eyed her for a moment before looking around but when nobody seemed willing to cough up a real explanation, she sighed and flicked her wand again to extinguish the lights before hovering Crabbe and Goyle ahead of her as she departed once more. "Oh, and Malfoy? Next time you want to try and destroy something of mine? Stick with the classics. Trip me going down the stairs or something."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Malfoy sniffed and then edged over to his telescope, keeping an eye on her all the while. "It's not my fault Crabbe is clumsy and stumbled your way when he tripped."

"Uh huh. And I'm the Queen of England." Excitement over, Hazel bent down and retrieved her quill and worksheet. "I think it's time to get to know the magical side of my family tree…"

* * *

**_September 7, 2001_**

* * *

Wednesday brought with it another five point deduction from McGonagall for being out of uniform and another trip to the hated greenhouses, followed by a remarkably light Thursday with only Charms and History of Magic in the morning and nothing in the afternoon. It seemed a bit wasteful for the school to do nothing with them for half the day, especially given that Wednesday likewise had two empty periods and Monday and Tuesday had one each, but then Hazel remembered that she'd have more classes come third year. She'd be a lot busier then.

Friday morning found Hazel at the Slytherin table for breakfast, studying her schedule as she sipped from a Tinky delivered cup of coffee. A body hit the bench next to her with a thud and then a hand slapped a galleon down on the table, Flora blinking blearily as she reached in and snagged a cup for herself from the cardboard carrier. "Praise Hazel. We bow before the gloriousness of She-Who-Turns-Galleons-Into-Coffee."

"Hallelujah." Hestia took up her seat on the other side of Hazel as was beginning to become customary, taking a coffee for herself. The twins' resolution to go every other day without drinking coffee had lasted a whopping two days and now Hazel found her purse growing fatter by the day as she fed their addiction, along with the needs of several others. In another week or two, Hazel was confident she'd be able to afford a magical coffee pot to hide down in her dorm and she'd be able to cut Tinky's source out of the loop. Then she'd just need to charge a minimal fee to cover beans, filters, and cups, and she'd have a thriving business. Apart from her and Vi's needs, she really didn't need to produce the extra coffee each morning but… well, caffeinated minions were evidently happy minions and happy minions were more useful minions, at least according to her mother. "So, what does Friday have in store for you?"

Hazel passed Hestia her schedule, likewise setting down her precious coffee so she could grab a piece of toast and spread some jam on it. "Double Potions with the Gryffindors, lunch, a free period, and then Herbology. Four hours of eye of newt and toe of frog, then two more hours of playing in the dirt. Thank God it's Friday." Doing a bit of math in her head, she grinned. "And if I'm lucky, today will be the first time I get fe-mail."

The slower-moving Vi, Tracey, and Daphne arrived just in time to hear that announcement, Tracey pausing in the act of grabbing her coffee to stare at Hazel oddly. "Getting female? Aren't we a little bit young for you to be into that kind of thing?" Turning, she stared down the length of the Slytherin table for a moment before returning her attention to Hazel. "Did one of the older girls try that the 'witches need to have sex to make their magic grow and I can help you out so the boys won't think you're a scarlet woman' trick on you? Because Missus Greengrass warned us about that before we got on the train, and…"

"Wow. No, no, and a world of what the heck have I gotten myself into. And Tracey? If anyone ever tried a line like that on me, you'd better believe I'd be checking their mind to see if they're being honest." Hazel shook her head in disgust. "That's just… and your parents know about this, Daphne? If parents know, why is it still going on?"

Shrugging, Daphne continued working on assembling the majority of a full English breakfast onto her plate, the pure amount of fat present making Hazel's stomach roil just at the sight of it. "It's just part of being in Slytherin. I guess the parents figure if their children fall for something so stupid, they deserve it? Don't look at me. My mother told Tracey and I, we've told you, so does it really matter?"

Hazel's eyes widened. "If we hadn't had this conversation, I wouldn't know. And if I wasn't a you-know-what, I wouldn't be able to tell the girl was lying if she was a good actress. It may not be a huge deal to you, or even to me, but what about the people who aren't lucky enough to have a friend in the know or special powers?"

With another shrug, Daphne dove into her meal. "So sit down all the first years from now till you graduate and warn them. I don't know. It's nothing that hurts us; I don't see why it's our problem."

"Fine. Maybe I will. Forgive me for thinking that the older years taking advantage of students is a bad thing." Huffing, Hazel turned back to Tracey before she ended up saying - or doing - something she'd regret later. "And not female. Fe-mail. Like e-mail, just with an F at the beginning. You'll understand when you see it." Tracey looked dubious but nodded and began eating, sparing a moment to nod to Megan as the Hufflepuff took a seat next to her. "Morning, girls. Grab a cup. I don't know where she got it from, but the flavor of the day is Black Forest Cake."

Megan was just the first of the four non-Slytherins to be seated, quickly followed by Catrìona, Ráichéal, and Mei-Xing. Hazel made sure to grab a second cup of coffee for herself as the remaining cups began to disappear, her fellow first-years slowly perking up as the caffeine hit their systems. Sipping at her cup, Megan stared off into space thoughtfully. "Rich. Little chocolate and cherry. I like it. Finally, the Germans are good for something."

With a dull whine, something brushed past Hazel's face before landing on Megan's hand. The Hufflepuff froze, coffee halfway to her mouth, staring at her visitor. "Germans are good for lots of things: beer… sausage… guns… lederhosen… me…"

"And this would be the fe-mail I was waiting for." Holding out her hand, Hazel waited for Jan to hop into her palm before making a circuit so each of her friends could get a good look. "Janet, these are my friends. Girls, this is Janet van Dyne. She's my owl."

Hopping off Hazel's hand, Janet's foot tall form wandered around the table for a moment before spotting the blonde's toast. "Oh am I? Well fine then. I see peoples' owls stealing from their plates, so… yoink!" Dropping to her knees, Janet leaned down and bit into the corner of Hazel's toast, diminutive figure growing a bit larger so she could fit the entire thickness of the bread into her mouth.

Hazel stared at the twenty-year old mutant in shock for a long moment, unable to believe Janet was behaving so childishly. Then she noticed that Janet's wings were vibrating rapidly and she was actually managing to lift the entire piece of bread into the air, albeit rather slowly. "Hey! That's my breakfast!" Grabbing the other side, she tried to tug it away from Janet, only to have her 'owl' redouble her efforts, adding a few bioelectric blasts to the mix as they fought over possession of the toast.

"And once more, it is Miss Frost and her compatriots who bring havoc to the Slytherin table." Hazel released the piece of toast, hands folding in her lap instinctively at the chiding tone, as Professor Snape came to a stop at the end of the Slytherin table. "Two points from Hufflepuff, one from Ravenclaw, and one from Gryffindor for not knowing how to find your own tables." His dark eyes drifted to the piece of toast now floating in midair over the table and his eyebrows shot up. "Would someone care to explain… that?"

The toast dropped to the table, a small crescent missing where Janet had finally bit through. After chewing and swallowing, Janet fluttered up off the table and flew down to hover in front of Snape. "Hi. I'm Janet. I'm evidently Hazel's owl. Can I get your autograph? My fiancé is a huge View Askewniverse fan."

Snape eyed Janet, then Hazel, and then Janet again before turning and walking away. "I do not, nor do I want to, know. I expect those of you who belong there to be in my classroom and ready to learn in fifteen minutes. In the meantime, I plan go find a headache reliever. Or possibly a shot of something and then a hangover reliever…"

"…so that would be a no to the autograph then?" Janet sighed, moving past the end of the table and growing to her full - although not particularly tall - height of five foot two before holding her hand out. "Alright, you have class and I have plans for after I'm done playing delivery girl. Letter?" Hazel forked over her correspondence, watching the letter's address fill itself in the moment it touched Janet's fingers.

Mrs. N. Malfoy  
The Solarium  
Malfoy Manor  
Amesbury,  
Wiltshire  
SP4 7RX

"Hmm. I think there's a pub near Stonehenge that I can floo to; cut down on my flight time to Amesbury. And wow, this delivery bird charm your mom paid to have put on my gloves is weird. Because I definitely didn't know where Amesbury was before a second ago, much less the fastest way to get there. Whatever. Anything you need me to have someone e-mail your mom?" Hazel shook her head and Janet pulled out on the bottom of her skintight top, the noise level in the Great Hall spiking as she stuffed the letter up out of sight. "Alright, see you when I get a response." Shrinking back down, Janet flew up towards the rafters, soon disappearing amongst the outbound owls.

The girls stared at Hazel for a long moment before shrugging and going back to their breakfasts. "That wasn't normal, right?" Megan pointed her fork up at the hole Janet had disappeared through with the rest of the owls. "Size-changing woman with bug wings. New to the rest of you too?" That earned her nods from everyone but Hazel and Vi. "Okay. Feel better about being totally lost now."

* * *

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call. And, like Flitwick, he paused at Hazel. His dark eyes boring into her green ones, he smirked as he read off her name. "Hazel Frost. Our new… celebrity."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggered across the room as Snape continued on with roll, no doubt expecting that they would finally find some sort of advantage in this class. Not only was Snape notorious for favoring Slytherins, but she knew from her first night's mental voyaging that he was Malfoy's godfather and so the blonde probably assumed that would finally give him an edge over Hazel. She, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. He seemed remarkably tolerant of her antics, not to mention the connection via her mother… "I suppose I am, sir. If anyone wants, I'll be available for autographs after class. I don't have pictures to sign yet, so you'll need to supply your own item for me to sign."

"Ahem. You can feed Miss Frost's ego after class, if that is your wish. Right now is my time, however, and I expect your full and unwavering attention. You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death… if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Hazel exchanged a look with Vi, who was actually participating in the class given it required no magical skills. Through their bond, she could tell the purple-haired girl shared her thoughts: Snape could make a killing as a professional speech writer if he ever got tired of teaching 'dunderheads'. "Frost! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot up and, knowing by now that - assuming Lavender and her big mouth had done its job - her powers were no secret, Hazel skimmed across the girl's surface thoughts to grab the answer. "The Draught of Living Death, sir."

Suddenly, Malfoy and his gang didn't look quite so amused. Hermione likewise sank back into her seat, scowling at Hazel. Snape merely quirked a brow, staring at her for a moment before throwing out another question. "Frost, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

_'Apothecary?'_ Vi's playful answer made Hazel look over at her neighbor. _'No, seriously, apothecary. Or the stomach of a goat if you want to cut out the middleman. I grabbed one on five-fingered discount while you were busy being grossed out by some of the animal parts. They're supposed to save you from being poisoned. Figured it might come in handy. Wackos love to go after famous people and you're twice as famous now.'_

"The stomach of a goat, sir. Or…" On a hunch, Hazel stuck her hand into the pocket of the black slacks Vi had opted to wear instead of the standard girls' skirt that day, pulling out the object in question. "My shadow's pocket."

Approaching the pair, Snape leaned in to inspect the bezoar, lowering his voice so he wouldn't be overheard. "I'd best not find any missing from my stores, Miss Frost, or you will enjoy the distinction of being the first Slytherin in many years to receive detention from me." Pulling away, he returned to his normal speaking voice. "What is the difference, Frost, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hazel was pretty sure she knew the answer to that one and a quick check of Hermione's mind confirmed it. "Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which is also known as aconite, blue rocket, or Devil's helmet. Sir."

"Now that we've established there are many things that Miss Frost knows that you do not, I find myself wondering… why are none of you writing this down?" There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. "And I am relieved to see that unlike some, you seem to take after both your parents equally, Miss Frost. Five points to Slytherin."

From there, they were put to work in pairs preparing a simple potion to cure boils. Not wanting to prepare the ingredients, Hazel took control of the actual brewing, leaving Vi to chop their various flora and fauna into the appropriately sized and shaped pieces and dump them into the cauldron.

And when Neville Longbottom managed to melt Seamus Finnigan's cauldron into a twisted blob, sending a wave of fluid across the ground, Vi sat calmly on her stool and continued chopping as Hazel shifted into diamond form, allowing the potion to eat through the old loafers she'd dug out specifically for Potions.

* * *

At the end of the class, as Hazel catalogued and packed up their supplies and Vi brought the cauldron over to the sink to wash, Snape paused beside their worktable. "Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to speak with you this evening. Nine o' clock; if I am not available and waiting for you, the password to the gargoyle is 'Ice Mice'."

Hazel nodded and the professor moved away, leaving her to her thoughts. So tonight she'd know how the first round of her game would play out. Good. She hated waiting. And Janet should be back by then with a response from Missus Malfoy. If she ended up needing to act on her threat to relocate, having plans for a shopping expedition with a notable pureblood lady would definitely come in handy…

Whistling softly, Hazel continued to pack her bag. Even the prospect of post-lunch Herbology couldn't entirely ruin her newly elevated mood.

It tried, though.


End file.
